Wallbanger(45)

moved away from me as I explained to Clive that it was not polite to do that to company. Clive seemed oddly pleased with himself, though, so I

knew he was up to something.

“Wow, it’s almost ten! I’ve taken up your entire evening. I hope you didn’t have plans,” Simon said, standing and stretching. As he stretched, his

T-shirt came up, and I bit down hard on my tongue to stop myself from licking the bit of skin showing above his jeans.

“Wel , I did have a rather exciting night of watching Food Network planned, so damn you, Simon!” I shook my fist in his face as I stood up next

to him.

“And you even made me dinner, which was great, by the way,” he said, searching for his sweatshirt.

“No problem. It was nice to cook for someone other than myself. It’s what I do for any guy who shows up demanding bread.” I final y handed him

the loaf I’d left out for him.

He grinned as he grabbed his sweatshirt off the floor next to the couch. “Wel , next time, let me cook for you. I make a fantastic—huh, that’s

weird,” he interrupted himself, grimacing.

“What’s weird?” I asked, watching as he unfolded his sweatshirt.

“This feels damp. Actual y, it’s more than damp, it’s…wet?” he asked, looking at me, confused. I looked from the sweatshirt to Clive, who sat

innocently on the back of the couch.

“Oh no,” I whispered, the blood draining from my face. “Clive, you little shit!” I glared at him.

He jumped off the couch and darted quickly between my legs, headed for the bedroom. He’d learned I couldn’t reach him behind the dresser,

and that’s where he hid when he’d done a bad, bad thing. He hadn’t done this in a long time.

“Simon, you might want to leave that here. I’l wash it, dry clean it—whatever. I am so, so sorry,” I apologized, horrifical y embarrassed.

“Oh, did he? Oh man, he did, didn’t he?” His face wrinkled as I took the sweatshirt from him.

“Yes, yes, he did. I’m so sorry, Simon. He has this thing about marking his territory. When any guy leaves clothes on the floor—oh, God—he

eventual y pees on them. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I’m so—”

“Caroline, it’s okay. I mean, it’s gross, but it’s okay. I’ve had worse things happen to me. It’s al good, I promise.” He started to put his hand on





my shoulder, but seemed to think better of it, probably when he realized the last thing he’d touched.

“I’m so sorry, I—” I began again as he started for the door.

“Stop it. If you say sorry one more time I’m gonna go find something of yours and pee on it, I swear.”

“Okay, that’s just gross.” I final y laughed. “But we had such a nice night, and it ended in pee!” I wailed, opening the door for him.

“It was a nice night, even with the pee. There’l be others. Don’t worry, Nightie Girl.” He winked and crossed the hal .

“Play me something good tonight, huh?” I asked, watching him go.

“You got it. Sleep tight,” he said, and we closed the doors at the same time.

I leaned back against the door, hugging the sweatshirt in my arms. I’m sure I had the goofiest grin on my face, as I remembered the feeling of

his fingertips. And then I remembered I was hugging a pee-stained sweatshirt.

“Clive, you asshole!” I yel ed and ran for my bedroom.

Fingers, hands, warm skin pressed against mine in an effort to get closer. I felt his warm breath, his voice like wet sex in my ear. “Mmm,

Caroline, how can you feel this good?”

I moaned and rol ed over, twisting legs with legs and arms with arms, pushing my tongue into his waiting mouth. I sucked on his bottom lip,

tasting mint and heat and the promise of what was to come when he pushed into my body for the first time. I moaned as he groaned, and in a flash I

was pinned beneath him.

Lips moved from my mouth to my neck, licking and sucking and finding the spot—that spot underneath my jaw that made my insides explode

and my eyes cross. A dark laugh against my col arbone, and I knew I was done for.

I rol ed on top of him, feeling the loss of his weight but the gain of my legs on either side of him, feeling him twitch and throb exactly where I

needed him to be. He pushed my hair from my face, gazing up at me with those eyes—the eyes that could make me forget my name but scream his

own.

“Simon!” I cried, feeling his hands grab my hips and push me against him.

I sat straight up in bed, my heart racing as the last dreamy images left my brain. I thought I heard a low chuckle from other side of the wal ,