She didn’t reply.
I hadn’t seen her since last night, on my couch. Even though I’d spent half the day lounging on my back deck and I was pretty sure she was home, working. For me, her lone client. She’d been fussing over my social media profiles for days—the ones Yash had some virtual assistant run for us—and sending notes to Yash on wording that should be tweaked, stuff like that.
I headed over to my car. Lamar had already pulled it out of the garage for me and stood waiting next to his car. He’d follow us to the party. Mainly because I didn’t do backseats, and I didn’t want Lamar in mine; I wanted to drive Angeline myself, and after last night I wanted her alone.
Last time I saw her, she was wearing my T-shirt, yet again, and backing out of my living room, acting way too cool about the fact that I’d just eaten whipped cream off her most sensitive body parts, then fucked her until her eyes rolled back in her head while she begged me to do it. I’d made her come, she’d made herself come. Then she’d insisted that she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go back to my sister’s place and crash.
She even forced a yawn.
I wasn’t dense. No matter how much the sex had knocked her out, more than she wanted sleep she wanted the hell out of there.
I’d almost dragged her up to my shower to wash her off and tuck her into bed, but something told me that would only make her more uncomfortable. As soon as she’d stopped panting and begging and come down from the hormone high and started looking so uneasy, I wasn’t really sure what to do or say around her.
I’d never been awkward with a girl after sex. Never.
But I’d never actually worried about completely freaking a girl out after sex, either. Something told me that if I did the wrong thing, she wouldn’t be coming back for another round.
After waiting for a few minutes, I wondered if I should go ring Shayla’s doorbell, or go back into the house with Lamar and chill. He raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing, probably trying to recall the last time I waited anywhere for a woman—never—other than my sister.
Finally, Angeline burst out the front door of Shayla’s house and hurried down the driveway toward me in a fluster. She wore pale blue jeans with rips in the knees, cute sneakers and a soft blue T-shirt that hugged her perfect tits. It had a rainbow print of a butterfly on it. Her brown hair was like ribbons of velvet around her shoulders, long, soft waves, the front pieces pinned back off her face. Pretty. The girl was so pretty.
Her blue-gray eyes met mine and I mobilized to open the passenger door for her. She flashed me a tight smile. “Hello, Johnny.”
I held her eyes as she sank into her seat, then shut the door for her.
Right. So that’s how it was gonna be. My publicist was on duty tonight. We were going with rigidly, awkwardly formal. At least, she was. I was totally fine, as long as she didn’t give me some crap about last night being a one time thing.
It was not a one time thing.
I sauntered around to the driver’s side and got in. As I backed us out of the driveway and we took off up the street, I wondered which one of us would bring up what happened last night first.
“Last night was… weird.”Her.
“Don’t gush on me too much at once. It’ll go to my head.”
“Not bad weird. Just…” A long silence ensued, like she was digging deep for the right words. “I didn’t expect that to happen.”
“Really. You figured when I found a naked intruder on my couch going to town on herself, I’d just turn around and go back to bed?”
Our eyes met briefly before she looked away. “I mean, you could’ve called the cops.”
“If you were a stranger, I would have.” When she was uncomfortably silent, I added, “But you’re not a stranger.”
“Look, I know it’s weird, okay? I just got sex brain and lost it.”
“Lost what?”
“You know. Common sense.”
“And common sense tells you…”
“Not to break into your next door neighbor’s house and fuck yourself on his couch because his smell turns you on and the thought of masturbating in his house where he might catch you on his security cams makes you wet.”
I took that in, my pulse quickening… floored at her words, in so many directions… “So that’s what I am now? Your neighbor?” I glanced at her, the streetlights sliding over her pretty face.
“No. You’re more than that.”
“Your client.”
