Four Day Fling(33)

She forced her way out of my grip, and I smirked, letting my hands fall to the sides.

“You did, huh?”

She nodded. “Yeah, uh, something about that table plan Mom was interfering with.”

I sat up as she reached for her tank top and grabbed it. “And you just remembered.”

“Uh-huh. I’m forgetful. Forget everything. What can I say?” She tugged the shirt over her head and went to move.

I snatched her wrist and tugged her back to me. She squeaked out a weird sound, and I slipped my fingers into her hair and round the back of her head.

And kissed her.

Her nails instantly dug into my thigh as she leaned into me. She tasted of tequila and strawberries and ice cream and smelled like the sea. It was an addictive combination.

Or maybe it was just her who was addictive.

I released her with a graze of my teeth over her lower lip. “Forget that,” I murmured.

She opened her mouth, then stopped, shook her head, and scrambled up to her feet. The sand moved beneath her, almost making her trip, and I had to laugh into my hand, so she didn’t turn around and hit me.

Which, let’s face it, was probably something she’d do.

I watched her go, flicking her fiery hair over her shoulder. She glanced back, blushing when she realized I’d caught her looking, and jerked her gaze away just in time to avoid tripping over the bottom step.

Helping Rosie my ass.

All she was doing was helping herself keep her pants on—and my cock hard.

I rolled to my front, shifting my hips so my throbbing, hard cock wasn’t totally flat against the sand, and buried my face in my arms.

This was turning out to be a long weekend.





CHAPTER ELEVEN – POPPY


Clits and Clucks



I rubbed my hand down my face with one hand and set my glasses on top of my head with the other.

Oh. My. God.

Adam Winters was going to kill me.

It wouldn’t be my mother after all. Maybe my gravestone wouldn’t read that I was a liar. Maybe it would read that a red-hot hockey player made my clitoris explode with lust and that was how I died.

I mean, as long as I orgasmed first, I wasn’t against it.

Now, I’d lied to escape his sex God ways, and I was screwed. After seeing Rosie earlier, I did not want to be in the presence of the female equivalent to Godzilla. Unlike me, she was able to hold her temper.

Unfortunately, just like me, when she let it fly, it was a doozy, and everyone needed to evacuate the immediate area.

I tucked hair behind my ear and wandered through the lobby. I didn’t know if I was expecting her to pop out from behind a wall or something, but she didn’t. Leaning against the concierge’s desk, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted her.

Her response was a little too quick for my liking.



Rosie: Ballroom from last night. Done w lunch?

Me:…Yes

Rosie: Come here before I murder someone



Oh, goodie.

I clutched my phone tightly in case, you know, I needed to use it as a weapon or something. You never knew with her. Once, when I’d forgotten to turn off her curling iron and burned a hole in her favorite shirt, I’d had to use a tape dispenser to get her out of my room.

That was the fifth time I’d burned something from not turning it off. In hindsight, it wasn’t totally unreasonable for her to hit me with it or to ban me from using it in the future.

She could have let it cool down before she hit me, though…

I stepped out of the elevator and headed for the room the other side of the hall. Mark was standing outside, phone to his ear, hand on his forehead.

“Hold on. I’ll call you back,” he said into the phone. “Pop, where’s your mom?”

“Judging by the margaritas at lunch and the giggle at the bartender, I’m going to say in bed,” I said slowly. “Why?”

He sighed heavily. “That was your dad. Apparently, your grandfather had a Bloody Mary on the plane.”

“Oh no.”

“Yes. Long story short, he started stripping in the car on the way home until your dad agreed to take him to a strip club for a dance.”

“Not again,” I groaned. “We specifically told the airline not to give him alcohol when we booked his seat. People pick gluten-free, we pick alcohol-free.”

Grimacing, he nodded. “He had a dance, and now he won’t leave. Your mom isn’t answering her phone, and your dad is panicking.”

Why was this always left up to me? I was the youngest. And why had I let my mother drink at lunch knowing this shit was happening?

I held my hand out for his phone.

He unlocked it and handed it to me.

Bringing up the last call, I dialed my father’s number.

“Mark. Did you find her?”

“Dad, it’s me. Poppy. Put Grandpa on the phone.” I sighed.

“Pops? Where’s your mom?”

“Too much sun at lunch,” I lied. “She’s got a headache and is lying down.”

“Cocktail tasting went well, then,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Yeah, watch her on those tomorrow. Grandpa?”

“Give me a second.” There was a rustling, followed by muffled club-style music. I couldn’t make out what happened next, but after a minute or so, silence cut through the line and Dad said, “Here.”