Something Reckless
Page 63
I snort. “I was frustrated. I’d get close when I was with guys, but they could never quite get me there. I guess I finally decided if you want a job done right, you’ve gotta do it yourself.”
My eyes flick up to his and I watch him as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Connor didn’t . . .”
“Most girls don’t their first time, silly.”
“I would have made sure you did.”
“Easy for you to say. You weren’t there.”
“I would have made sure,” he repeats.
“Okay, Mr. Confidence, how would you have made sure?”
He lowers his head on the pillow and stares at me for a minute. I like this—Sam and me, naked in bed, bodies turned toward each other. It’d be too easy to get used to something like this.
“I would have made damn sure you got off before I ever slid inside you. I would have played with you until you had no choice but to come. And I’d have only let myself fuck you after I’d felt your pussy squeeze around my fingers. It’s not rocket science.”
I laugh. “Is that going to be part of your proposed pussy class for young men?”
His brow wrinkles in confusion, and I feel as if an invisible fist has punched me. Because it wasn’t Sam who’d talked about a “pussy class.” It was River. And I just confused them.
“What pussy class?”
It’s not rocket science. Hadn’t River said something similar? And for a minute, I forgot Sam isn’t River. For too many weeks, I believed he was, and now I’m all screwed up.
I swallow hard and force a smile. “I’m thinking of someone else. Sorry. That wasn’t you.”
He rolls onto me and pins my hands above my head. “You’re thinking of someone else while you’re naked in bed with me?”
“What are you going to do about it?” I say in my best show of bravado, but he’s already kissing his way down my body, showing me exactly what he plans to do.
Chapter Twenty
Liz
“You’re here early.”
I’m setting out pastries and coffee from Hanna’s bakery on the table in the conference room when I turn and see Mr. Bradshaw leaning in the doorway. “First time in my life I’ve had a job that made me excited about Monday morning,” I say. “It’s an odd feeling.”
“Smells amazing,” he says, nodding to the table.
“It is. My sister is the absolute best at what she does.” The smile falls from my face when I see his serious expression. “Is everything okay, Mr. Bradshaw?”
He tucks his hands into his pockets and steps into the room. “I couldn’t help but notice how happy you were on Sam’s arm on Saturday.” He grabs the Indianapolis Star from the table and opens it to the politics section, where there’s a picture of Sam and me together. “You make a beautiful couple. The camera loves you.”
Then why do you look so unhappy? “But . . .?”
He lifts his gaze from the paper and meets my eyes. “I don’t want there to be a but, Liz.”
“And yet here we are.”
“Connor told me that it was more than a photo op. He said there’s something going on between you two.”
My stomach goes sour. “Connor?”
“He’s just worried about you. And I guess I am, too. Sam doesn’t exactly have a reputation for long-lasting romances, but eventually he and Sabrina are bound to end up together.”
Sabrina? Mr. Bradshaw’s words are a punch in the gut, and my mind fills with the image of Sam and Sabrina dancing at the gala. Was there something between them?
Mr. Bradshaw gives me an apologetic smile. “Some things are just inevitable. I don’t want your efforts to help his image resulting in you getting hurt.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.” I force a smile. “I know there’s no future for me and Sam. It’s not like that between us. We’re friends, and sometimes we go to weddings and political events together.” And other times we fuck like bunnies into all hours of the night.
He nods, satisfied. “You certainly impressed the governor.”
“You think so?”
“I think she’s going to try to steal you away from us.”
“Would you forgive me?” I ask. “If I got the opportunity to work on her campaign, that is? I mean, I don’t presume that I will, but if I did . . .”
“You keep doing such good work here,” he says, “and I’ll make sure she finds a spot for you.”
* * *
To: Elizabeth Thompson
From: Something Real Reminders
Subject: You Have a Message Waiting for You
Just a reminder that Riverrat69 sent you the following message and you haven’t replied:
This is me not buying you a dog. You said you want a man who knows when you need a dog. And I know you don’t need a dog right now. You need a man. One who knows exactly what you like in bed and isn’t afraid to deliver. One who can satisfy you. You need me. And I’m here. When you’re ready.
“Liz?” Nix says. “I was at the bar and didn’t see you come in. Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I was waiting for Nix to meet me at Brady’s when I saw the email alert flashing on my phone. Like an idiot, I opened it without thinking, and now I’m paying the price in the form of guilt, and stomach-gnawing fretting. “I’m fine. I just need a drink.”
My eyes flick up to his and I watch him as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Connor didn’t . . .”
“Most girls don’t their first time, silly.”
“I would have made sure you did.”
“Easy for you to say. You weren’t there.”
“I would have made sure,” he repeats.
“Okay, Mr. Confidence, how would you have made sure?”
He lowers his head on the pillow and stares at me for a minute. I like this—Sam and me, naked in bed, bodies turned toward each other. It’d be too easy to get used to something like this.
“I would have made damn sure you got off before I ever slid inside you. I would have played with you until you had no choice but to come. And I’d have only let myself fuck you after I’d felt your pussy squeeze around my fingers. It’s not rocket science.”
I laugh. “Is that going to be part of your proposed pussy class for young men?”
His brow wrinkles in confusion, and I feel as if an invisible fist has punched me. Because it wasn’t Sam who’d talked about a “pussy class.” It was River. And I just confused them.
“What pussy class?”
It’s not rocket science. Hadn’t River said something similar? And for a minute, I forgot Sam isn’t River. For too many weeks, I believed he was, and now I’m all screwed up.
I swallow hard and force a smile. “I’m thinking of someone else. Sorry. That wasn’t you.”
He rolls onto me and pins my hands above my head. “You’re thinking of someone else while you’re naked in bed with me?”
“What are you going to do about it?” I say in my best show of bravado, but he’s already kissing his way down my body, showing me exactly what he plans to do.
Chapter Twenty
Liz
“You’re here early.”
I’m setting out pastries and coffee from Hanna’s bakery on the table in the conference room when I turn and see Mr. Bradshaw leaning in the doorway. “First time in my life I’ve had a job that made me excited about Monday morning,” I say. “It’s an odd feeling.”
“Smells amazing,” he says, nodding to the table.
“It is. My sister is the absolute best at what she does.” The smile falls from my face when I see his serious expression. “Is everything okay, Mr. Bradshaw?”
He tucks his hands into his pockets and steps into the room. “I couldn’t help but notice how happy you were on Sam’s arm on Saturday.” He grabs the Indianapolis Star from the table and opens it to the politics section, where there’s a picture of Sam and me together. “You make a beautiful couple. The camera loves you.”
Then why do you look so unhappy? “But . . .?”
He lifts his gaze from the paper and meets my eyes. “I don’t want there to be a but, Liz.”
“And yet here we are.”
“Connor told me that it was more than a photo op. He said there’s something going on between you two.”
My stomach goes sour. “Connor?”
“He’s just worried about you. And I guess I am, too. Sam doesn’t exactly have a reputation for long-lasting romances, but eventually he and Sabrina are bound to end up together.”
Sabrina? Mr. Bradshaw’s words are a punch in the gut, and my mind fills with the image of Sam and Sabrina dancing at the gala. Was there something between them?
Mr. Bradshaw gives me an apologetic smile. “Some things are just inevitable. I don’t want your efforts to help his image resulting in you getting hurt.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.” I force a smile. “I know there’s no future for me and Sam. It’s not like that between us. We’re friends, and sometimes we go to weddings and political events together.” And other times we fuck like bunnies into all hours of the night.
He nods, satisfied. “You certainly impressed the governor.”
“You think so?”
“I think she’s going to try to steal you away from us.”
“Would you forgive me?” I ask. “If I got the opportunity to work on her campaign, that is? I mean, I don’t presume that I will, but if I did . . .”
“You keep doing such good work here,” he says, “and I’ll make sure she finds a spot for you.”
* * *
To: Elizabeth Thompson
From: Something Real Reminders
Subject: You Have a Message Waiting for You
Just a reminder that Riverrat69 sent you the following message and you haven’t replied:
This is me not buying you a dog. You said you want a man who knows when you need a dog. And I know you don’t need a dog right now. You need a man. One who knows exactly what you like in bed and isn’t afraid to deliver. One who can satisfy you. You need me. And I’m here. When you’re ready.
“Liz?” Nix says. “I was at the bar and didn’t see you come in. Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I was waiting for Nix to meet me at Brady’s when I saw the email alert flashing on my phone. Like an idiot, I opened it without thinking, and now I’m paying the price in the form of guilt, and stomach-gnawing fretting. “I’m fine. I just need a drink.”
