“I know. We’re working on it. Are you okay? You sound out of breath.”
“I had wild monkey sex last night.” She’d always had lists, but none like this. Those were all business related. This list was personal. As Mia Hayward, Amelia now had the opportunity, and unprecedented time, to indulge her every fantasy. None of which had anything to do with Blush.
So, for the moment, she had complete anonymity to work her way up and down her list in any damn order she felt like. Not systematically or in logical order, as she usually did things, but in a wildly exciting, out-of-order, spontaneous, fun way, as things came to her.
Spontaneity was number one on the list. Check. Check. And check.
She’d jumped from number eight, Bake cookies, to number seventeen, Sex with a stranger. Fast and furious sex in the bright light of her kitchen. And the stranger had earned every damned penny of his fee.
Which was still in the envelope shoved to the back of the counter by their energetic exertions. Insertions. She smiled. God. She couldn’t believe what she’d done the night before. Couldn’t believe she’d let herself be swept away without her usual inhibitions or caution. Dear Lord. It had been liberating. Exciting. Mind-blowing. There was a lot to be said for anonymous, uncomplicated sex. A hell of a lot.
“Holy shit, woman,” Todd said. “Don’t stop in the middle of a sentence like that! Spill!”
She smiled. “Number seventeen on the list. Sex with a stranger. Done, done, and oh my God—done again.”
There was a pause, before he said, with rude incredulity, “Say what? I thought you just said you had sex last night.”
“Multiple times, and multiple O’s.” The breathy quality of her voice gave way to a long pause as her cousin thought about that.
“Jesus. Are you having sex right now?”
Mia laughed as she dropped back into the chair and swung her bare feet up on the table. Another first. “I wish. No. Just cleaning up all the crap he swept to the floor when he did me on the kitchen counter last night.”
“Please tell me you aren’t kidding.”
A blush she thought herself incapable of bloomed as her face heated. “Apparently this place employs very qualified staff. Very qualified.”
“He was a rent-a-fuck? Who are you, and what have you done with my favorite cousin?”
“I’m fully embracing Mi—my new persona.”
Todd breathed out a whistle. “I love this chick.”
She grinned, then swung her feet to the floor. “I’m starting to, too. It was”—she closed her eyes—“amazing.”
“What did he look like? Hot and sexy, or homely, diligent, and excellent at his job?”
“About six three, dark, shoulder-length hair, five-o’clock shadow, superdark brown eyes. Not an ounce of body fat. Broad shoulders, rock-hard . . . abs, strong hands. And big . . . feet.”
“Are you making him up? This is a real guy, right? You aren’t anthropomorphizing BOB, are you? Quite understandable, of course; we all do it.”
Mia plucked a crumb from between her toes. Her new pinkie toe ring glinted as she rotated her foot to admire it. Maybe she’d get a tattoo. . . . “A real, heart-pounding, flesh-and-blood man of gigantic proportions.”
“Judas! Be still, my jealous heart. Not to be prurient, but what size condom did he wear? Tell me it was a Highway to Heaven?”
“Oh, shit!” She suddenly remembered the enormous box of condoms in the drawer in her bedside table. Condoms had been the last thing on her mind because he’d driven her mindless in the damned kitchen, and the first time he’d finally used his penis, he hadn’t given her warning. She made a mental note to keep a handful in every room of the house from now on. “You just made that up.”
“No, actually, I— Holy crap, Louise! You rode this stud bareback?”
Mia shook her head with a combo of amazement and appreciation, and felt a rush of residual heat. She ached in places she’d never ached before, her breasts felt tight, her nipples hard with arousal just thinking about the hot, wet suckle of his mouth on her sensitized body. “He didn’t give me time to think of anything other than what he . . . gave me.”
“And that would be . . . ?”
“My first screaming orgasm. One of many.”
“Jesus!”
“That name came up several times,” Mia told him, voice dry. “Yesterday, I must admit, was a red-letter day. I baked cookies last night. Number four on my list. And while the fruits of my labor were a casualty of kitchen counter sex, I consider them a win. Today, number five: Following a recipe with more than six ingredients. Hear me roar.”