Sex, Not Love(53)

I was a snooper, but I wasn’t a total asshole, so I put the letter from his brother back and arranged the drawer the way it had been before sliding it shut. I had no idea what to do with myself after that. Hunter wouldn’t be here for another forty-five minutes, at least, so I decided to call Anna. It would be fun to play guess where I am.

“My nipples are killing me,” she said as she answered, rather than hello.

Nothing surprised me with her. “Well, okay then. That’s where this conversation is going. I was going to take it in a different direction, but I can work with this. How’s your asshole doing?”

She groaned. “Seriously, why can’t men be the ones to produce milk? I mean, we do everything. I carried this little pipsqueak for ten months, popped her out of my tiny little vagina, and now my tits are killing me because all she does is suck on them all day.” I heard a sweet little yelp in the background when she finished her rant.

“Is that my niece?”

“It is.” Her voice softened. “She sucks like a Hoover.”

“Aww. I miss you guys. Tell me what she’s up to these days. Is she walking? Talking?” I joked.

“Not quite. But she’s got pooping and sucking down pretty good.”

I laughed and settled into Hunter’s couch. It was so good to hear her voice, like wrapping myself in an old blanket from childhood. “How are you feeling?”

“Aside from the cracked nipples, I actually feel really good. I’ve been walking the baby in the stroller a lot, and with breastfeeding burning up all my calories, my body is starting to shrink toward its normal shape.”

“Wow. That’s great.”

“What’s going on with you?”

“Eh.” I feigned no big deal. “I’m just sitting at Hunter’s place, waiting for him to come home so we can screw like rabbits.”

A shriek so loud came through the phone that I had to pull it away from my ear. Needless to say, we did a lot of catching up over the next half hour. Though Anna had been initially leery of me and Hunter getting together, she was genuinely excited. Maybe too excited. She had me moving out to the west coast, marrying her husband’s best friend so the four of us could be inseparable, and pushing a baby carriage next to her. The reality was, Hunter and I were only going to be fuck buddies.

I attempted to set her expectations straight, although the hope I heard in her voice told me that wasn’t going to be an easy task.

“Why don’t you meet him at the door naked?” Anna said.

I laughed. “He’s been traveling all day. He’s probably starving.”

“My point exactly.” My little niece began to mewl in the background. We’d been talking on the phone for a long time. “Damn. She’s wet. I need to change her. Can you call me back in a few minutes?”

“Hunter should be home soon. How about if I call you tomorrow.”

“Oh my God. Call me right after it’s over.”

I chuckled. “Sure. I’ll call you while he’s taking off the condom.”

“Okay!”

I wasn’t quite sure if she knew I was joking or not. “I’ll call you tomorrow, crazy lady.”

After I said goodbye, I went to the bathroom to freshen up. While I was in there, for a half a second I gave serious consideration to what Anna had suggested. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Hunter would be thrilled if I answered the door buck-ass naked. But I was still on edge and needed the passion to build between us before I could let go that much.

As I was brushing my teeth with my finger, I heard the front door quietly open and close. Oh my God. He’s home. I was half giddy, fully nervous, and buzzing with a sudden surge of adrenaline. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths and then looked in the mirror before heading out to see the man responsible for my heart hammering a million miles a minute.

Only, when I walked out, it wasn’t Hunter standing in the living room. It was a woman. Just as I emerged from the bathroom, she dropped her coat to the floor.

And I froze in place, standing there staring at her beautiful, naked body.





Chapter 23


Natalia




“Shit!” The woman mumbled as she bent to pick up the trench coat pooled around her bare feet. “I thought someone else was staying here.” She seemed to have a British accent.

I blinked a few times, at first stunned at the turn of events, but then in an attempt to unglue my eyes from the statuesque redhead. She was drop-dead gorgeous. Tall, thin, with creamy porcelain skin, perky boobs, and legs that ran for miles. I didn’t tend to be overly self-conscious, but standing in a room with her fixed that real quick.

Before I could form a coherent sentence, the woman spoke again while pulling on her coat. “I’m so sorry. I’m in the flat next door. A guy I work with sometimes stays in this one, and I knew he was in town. When I asked the doorman who was staying in this apartment, he told me it was him.”

“How did you get in here?”

She pointed over her shoulder. “The door wasn’t locked. I knocked first, but no one answered, so I opened it.”

“Who are you?”

“Brooke. Brooke Canter.” She cinched her coat at the waist. “I do apologize. I thought you were someone else. I’m mortified.”