America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(74)
“Are you touching yourself?” I whisper.
“Do you want me to?” Gritted. Harsh. Like he’s not in control.
“Yes.”
“I wish you were touching me.”
“I wish you were touching me too.”
“Where?”
“My nipples are very sensitive.”
“Sarah,” he groans.
The bathroom door suddenly jolts against my back. “Sarah! SARAH! The booty dance! TELL BECK WE NEED THE BOOTY DANCE!”
The game.
Shit. Dammit. Hell.
I leap up, my legs wobbly, my nipples pebbled so hard they’ve probably turned inside out, my head light, my heart pounding. “No! No booty dance!” I shriek.
“Sarah?” Beck’s voice is pained, half-moan, half despair.
And then there’s silence. For half a second before Mackenzie pops the door and peers in at me with one eyeball.
One very wide blue eyeball.
“Oh my god,” she whispers.
I make some motions with my hands that I hope mean go away and do not tell my parents and I might hate you right now but I’ll still love you tomorrow.
“I mean, if that’s what it takes for them to win, I guess you’re going to be really fucking satisfied by October. Good for you, girlfriend. But can you text me that video?”
“No!”
“Okay, okay. Sheesh. Just asking.” She pulls the door shut again. “No, Judson, she’s taking a bath. Leave her alone. She gets all shrieky when people see her naked.”
“Did you use the bath salts we sent for Valentine’s Day?” my mom calls.
I drop my head to the bathroom door, suddenly missing orgasms more than I have at any time in the past year.
“I owe you something better than chocolates for this, don’t I?” Beck says in my ear, making me jump.
“You totally got off, didn’t you?”
“You like waffles? Or omelets? I make a killer waffle-omelet sandwich. I could come make you breakfast in the morning. Or right now.”
“It’s fine. I have a vibrator.”
“Fucking hell, I’m going to be thinking about that all night.”
I wince. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m going to enjoy the hell out of these fantasies.”
“You’re adding funnel cakes and barbecue to them, aren’t you?”
“Sarah Dempsey, I’m going to talk you into marrying me one day.”
I laugh.
He doesn’t.
Probably because he’s salivating over the idea of me masturbating while surrounded by food.
“You sure you have plans tomorrow night? We could head out to my place in Shipwreck. I’ve got a telescope out there.”
My heart squeezes behind my still tingling nipples. “Maybe next weekend?”
“Done. You’re on my calendar. No backing out now.”
“Did you just text Charlie?”
“Nope. I put it on my calendar all by myself. Right next to eat at that Indian place down the street. But I can move that.”
“Wait. Which Indian place? The one with the garlic naan that you can smell baking halfway through Reynolds Park?”
“Is there any other Indian place in this city?”
“Technically, yes.”
“It’s a date. Indian, then Shipwreck. And banana pudding donuts.”
“OH MY GOD, WE WON! WE WON IN EXTRA INNINGS! WE WON WE WON WE WON!”
I smile at the white wooden door and Mackenzie’s shrieks in the living room. “Thanks for being the Fireballs’ good luck charm again,” I say softly.
“Anytime. Especially if it gives me an excuse to talk to you.”
The belly flutters join the warmth in my heart and the frustration in my lady bits.
This feels real.
And fun.
And easy.
I just hope it can last.
Thirty
Beck
I’m so hyped up Friday morning, I can’t even concentrate on Donkey Kong. I keep hearing Sarah’s ragged breath and soft gasps, that need in her voice, and I don’t even want second breakfast.
I want to go find her.
But I’m stuck in meetings with my team that I can’t get out of by frying another motherboard, especially since my coffee this morning is from a local shop down the street that uses cinnamon sticks as stir sticks and it’s delicious and I’d have to go get a different cup of coffee to dump on my computer if I don’t want to cry while I’m doing it.
Plus, Bruce has decided that Operation: Fix Beck’s Reputation has gone so well that we need to jump on getting Vaughn signed up for doing a business partnership around socks.
Yes, socks.
“It’s an easy market,” he insists. “Who else is doing designer socks? And we could pull the girl into it. Those shots of you looking at her while she’s making that donkey face with the penis shoulder are exactly the sort of thing that would sell if you were sitting on a couch together, showing off your socks.”
“Donkey face with the penis shoulder?”
Charlie slides me her phone, and I look down to see Sarah laughing so hard her mouth’s open and her eyes are squeezed shut, and somehow her braid’s hanging over her shoulder but looks fuzzy enough that okay, yeah, if you have a dirty mind, it could possibly look like a penis, but Christ, you really have to twist it.