Neighbors with Benefits (Anderson Brothers, #2)(40)

She took a shuddering breath as he slipped his fingers out and pulled her dress back in place. “I want you. I’ve never disguised that fact. I’m not the rose petals and romance kind of man you dream about, but I’m not bad for you, either.”

She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, and he rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head, staring up at the apex of the triangular whitewashed ceiling while waiting for his erection to recede.

“I’m not programmed to self-destruct. Just the opposite.”

“Really? Why do all your friends act like you are one step short of hopeless?”

She crossed her arms over her ribs. “I am, sometimes.”

“We all are. You broadcast it for some reason and I think I know what the reason is.”

“Well, of course you do because you are so perfect and put together. Organized, successful, powerful, and all that crap. You are so in control of your emotions—or lack thereof—it’s maddening.”

He certainly didn’t feel in control of his emotions. It was taking everything in him to maintain his calm. “You’re deflecting.”

She stood and straightened her dress as she made a frustrated growling sound. “I’ll never win in a debate with you. I don’t stand a chance. Look at you! Even your clothes don’t wrinkle.”

Clancy raised his head when Michael sat up. “Deflecting again, and keep your voice down.” He pointed to the floor indicating the couple below.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want my ex to know we weren’t up here banging like bunnies.”

He knew she was irritated, but the banging bunnies thing was too cute to not smile. To his delight, she smiled back. She never ceased to surprise him.

A glance at his watch while he washed his hands confirmed they were due downstairs. “You need to change.”

“Won’t what I’m wearing work?”

“No. They’ve all seen that already. For shopping and a pub, you should wear the jeans and leather jacket.”

“Oh, so you’re dressing me now, Michael Control-Freak Anderson?”

“I’d like to undress you, Hermia Lysander Argarapolis, and then ‘bang like bunnies,’ but that would involve your admission to liking french fries as a steady diet.”

“I love french fries. I just have great will power and self-preservation instincts.”

He arched an eyebrow. Then directed a pointed look at the rumpled sheets where he’d just brought her to climax.

She cleared her throat and glanced at the bed. “Most of the time.”

He kissed her forehead—something out of character that felt completely normal with her. “I’m nothing if not tenacious.” Then he grabbed her suitcase from the shower and set it on the bed. “Jeans and jacket.”

She popped the suitcase latch and unzipped it. “Yes, sir.”

Setting his suitcase on the bed next to hers, he winked when she shot him a sideways glance to check out his reaction. “I like that a lot better than ‘wait’.”

“Speaking of which, would you mind waiting outside while I change? The bathroom is too small.”

It certainly was. In order to close the door, she’d have to step into the shower to give it enough room to swing closed. “I do mind. This will have to do.” He turned his back, careful to not hit his head again. “If someone saw me waiting outside, it would ruin the grand illusion we’ve so carefully crafted.”

Closing his eyes, he imagined her actions as he listened to the sounds of fabric slipping over her body and zippers sliding opened and closed. Sweet torture, but torture nonetheless.

“Ready,” she said finally.

As he opened the door for her, she grabbed her scarf from the bed and wound it around her neck with a flourish.

She looked amazing in the jeans and tight tank top with the fitted leather jacket. That denim over her well-toned ass might even prove adequate compensation for tolerating the horrible yellow and green scarf all afternoon.





Chapter Thirteen


“Hope you two had a good …rest,” Sue said before breaking out into a giggle on the porch swing. Mark, sitting next to her was clearly holding back a laugh.

Well, this is awkward. Mia shot a look at Jason, seated in a wicker chair, who immediately found his feet interesting. Obviously, he’d spilled the beans about their bedroom shenanigans. Maybe bouncing on the bed to make it squeak had been overboard.

“We did, thank you,” Michael said, wrapping his arms around her from behind, then nuzzling her hair as if they’d just been making love and she hadn’t rejected him…again.

Which begged the question, why did she keep rejecting him? He was perfect. Maybe that was it: he was too perfect—well, except for the overly controlled bit. This puzzled her, too. For someone who reined in his emotions, needed absolute order, and left nothing to chance, he didn’t seem to mind her flakiness. It had driven Jason nuts. Maybe it did bother him and he was just overlooking it in order to get laid. No. He could and had—as evidenced by the photos online and her time as his neighbor—gotten that from women much better suited and harder to get than she.

He splayed his hands across her abdomen and pulled her against him—nothing anyone else would think twice about, but she certainly did when the bulge in his pants nudged her backside and all that heat from earlier resurfaced, kicking up her heart rate and stinging her cheeks with a blush she hoped no one saw.