Misadventures of a Curvy Girl (Misadventures #18)(12)

“What was it, peach?” I ask her as I nibble on her earlobe.

“What…what was what?” she asks hazily, still rocking against my thigh.

“You said before that you thought something about me, but you didn’t say what.”

“Oh,” she breathes with a little laugh. “It seems silly now. Forget about it.”

I’ve got my face in her neck now, and shit, she smells so good. Like flowers and all sorts of expensive womanly things. The kind of smell that makes you think of stores that have pianos and chandeliers inside them. “Tell me, Ireland,” I say, nipping at her neck and then licking it until she shivers. “Say it.”

I don’t want her to censor herself around me. I don’t want to be a reason for that twisting, self-mocking smile, and I don’t want to be a reason for her to bite back what she really wants to say. Ever, and that means starting now.

She sighs happily at my attentions to her neck and then admits, “I thought you and Ben were a couple.”

I stop.

Freeze, really.

And pull away.

She lets out a wrecked exhale as I do, as if it pains her to be separated from my body. Which, same. My own body is pulsing and aching and screaming to be back against hers. My mouth is lonely, and my thigh is cold without the hot weight of her cunt on it.

But still I pull back and run a hand through my hair. “Shit,” I mumble.

She blinks at me. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” she says. “I just thought roommate might be some kind of euphemism, you know? And really, if you are offended, then I’m sorry because that’s really narrow-minded of you—”

“I’m not offended,” I interrupt. “Hell, Ben’s sister is gay. Of course I’m not offended. I just…”

You just what, Caleb? Were about to ignore years of loyalty to Ben so you could dry hump next to a barn like a teenager?

Ireland is looking at me carefully now, and that kind of scrutiny plus her kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair is enough to make my torso clench again. Fuck, I want to kiss her senseless. I want to press myself back against her, but I can’t.

Ben and I start things together. That means I need to wait for him.

“So you and Ben,” she says. “Just roommates?” There’s a hint of vulnerability in her voice as she asks, and I know what she really means.

She means: am I taken? Am I fucking around with her when I have no right to?

The problem is that I don’t know what the right word is for Ben and me. We’re not gay in the way Ben’s sister is, and we’re definitely not straight. But even bisexual feels incomplete to me, like it’s one note on a piano, and what Ben and I share is a complicated but quiet melody.

A melody that needs a third person.

Shit, I’m no good at metaphors either.

“We’re not just roommates,” I tell Ireland honestly. “But it’s not like… There’s more to it than that.” I run my hand over my hair again, feeling frustrated that I’m not better with words.

I’m a simple man. I like big girls, Kansas sunrises, and my dog, Greta. I like sharing those things with my best friend.

And as such a simple guy, I’m no good at explaining anything more complicated than a missing ball bearing.

“Oh,” Ireland says, clearly still confused. She bites her lip, and my eyes fix on that spot like it holds the answer to every question I’ve ever wanted to know. “So this kiss…is it a secret from Ben? Because I don’t like being a secret.”

A small flame of hurt shines in her eyes, and I realize she’s been someone’s secret before. I wish I could find whoever it is and wring their neck, but I set that aside for now. I touch her chin and lift her face to mine so I can look her in the eyes. “It’s not a secret, I promise. What I feel for you isn’t a secret either; Ben already knows. But he and I—well, maybe it’s just easier to explain when he gets here.”

“Try me now,” she says stubbornly, but at that moment a huge gust of wind catches the barn door on the other side, slamming it back against the wall with an ominous crack. More raindrops slice through the air, and I drop a kiss on her forehead.

“Gotta batten down the barn,” I say. “And bring some stuff inside from the office. I promise, Ben will be here soon and we’ll talk through everything, but until then, you should go inside the house and get you and your camera out of the rain.”

I think she wants to argue more, but the racing wind makes it near impossible to argue, and she looks like she knows it. And I can tell from the way her hand tightens around her camera that she has very little interest in discovering how waterproof it is. With a frustrated shake of her head, she heads back to the house, Greta following at her heels without so much as a goodbye tail wag for me.

And even through the rain, I can still see the hypnotic denim-covered sway of Ireland’s peach-shaped ass. God, what it would be like to peel those wet jeans off her.

Ben can’t get here soon enough.





Chapter Five





Ireland





I should be pissed, but when I get inside the storm-dark house, I only feel confused. Aroused. Achy in a way I never felt with Brian…or anyone else, for that matter. I stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do, simply watching the rain coming down in front of the porch. And then I turn back to the barn. I see Caleb outside, the mouthwateringly huge muscles in his shoulders and back straining as he struggles to close the barn door against the wind.