Stone: At Your Service (Carolina Bad Boys #1) (14 page)

Ah, shit. Maybe this is the therapy sesh I thought I was havin
g earlier with the Widows.
“Yeah, no. I mean, yes . . . trust issues and women.”
But I’m not gay!
“Except for my ma.”

“
She accepts you two, that’s sweet.” She petted my hand.

She
’s goddamn petting my hand.
This could not get any worse. Now I wasn’t even turning over her engine, I was the pathetic lemon car, the last one left on the lot . . . a pitiful picture of a man to her. I had to turn this around.

“
About earlier, Leelee.” Once I had her attention—those big green eyes swerving to mine—I started buttoning my shirt. Slowly, very fucking slowly. “I’m sorry you saw me like that, but I don’t regret it.”

The same words I
’d said about our kiss. Now she knew she was on my mind while I’d come, and I was glad she’d watched me.

“
You looked amazing, stroking your cock like that.” The more dirty words that slipped from her pert little mouth, the harder I got. She took a sip of wine and gave a laugh. “I might have to add that to my WIP.”

I leaned closer, bound to her by the rippling tension between us.
“Whip?” So long as it didn’t belong to Missy the Mistress, I was on board.

“
WIP—work in progress.” Leelee looked me up and down, a gaze so intense it was as tangible as if her mouth, tongue, fingers slid all over my body.

“
I don’t give a shit about any WIP.”
It hit me then. I wasn’t interested in taking what I could get from Leelee. And maybe being with her was a no-go for right now, but I could lay the groundwork for something longer lasting later.

“
I’m sorry, that came out wrong. What I mean is, I care about
you
.” Taking Leelee’s hand in mine, I skimmed my fingertips up to her elbow.
“
I haven’t made love to anyone for a long time.” For years, maybe never.

Her back
arched as if every part of her body was connected to the almost innocent stroking of my fingers on her arm. “What about Nicky?” she gasped.

I cradled her face in my hand, my thumb brushing her lower lip.
“You can’t tell anyone.”
Josh, shut up, you big dumbass
. “It’s over after the convention. I’m not in love with him, and he isn’t with me.” Not a lie.

“
You seem so close . . .” Leelee leaned in, shivering from the heat of my touch.

I murmured,
“We’ll always be best friends.”

Her eyelids grew deliciously heavy. Lips wet and parted. My thumb disappeared from her mouth, making way for my kiss. A small brush of our lips from side to side with her warm breath and hot wetness plucking at me.
A kiss with all the promise of more. 

My finger
s trailed down her neck, which tipped to the side for my touch. I wanted to kiss her again, but I’d bide my time with a soft, slow seduction. I kept her hand in mine as I searched through my wallet for enough cash to pay the bill.

“
We should get going. Headed to your room?”

She patted her bag, her lips,
her hair. She stood on another pair of dangerous-to-my-dick heels.

“
I’ll take you, babe.” With my hand resting on her lower back, I guided Leelee out.

My footsteps became heavier the closer we got to her room, and my heart decided to match that shit, dropping low in my chest.

Delivering her to her door, I asked, “You’ll be at Guys with Balls tonight?”

“
I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She darted up for a peck on the cheek, no lingering. New lines drawn.

Lines I was determined to destroy.

Thursday
: Balls to the Wall

I TREKKED BACK TO the room of my
inglorious
release, relieved to find Nicky absent. I stacked Leelee’s and Jacqueline’s books plus all the other freebies onto the overflowing nightstand and hit the bed. It was time to put my iPhone plan—not my palm—to good use. Or bad use. I almost kissed the damn thing when no messages piled up. Not another shove-a-pen in my eyes, pucker-up photo from the garage. Connecting to the Internet, I got busy on Google. The search engine spewed out so much Leelee Songchild info, I had to scroll down and down and down some more just to get my bearings.

Pinterest.
That was the thing they’d mentioned last night. Quickly learning Pinterest should be called Pimpterest, I clicked, blinked, and backed away.
Twitter
. A bluebird, that didn’t look like it would blind me with images of man-cock, right? I was immediately a fan of the little blue birdie because I didn’t have to sign in or log on to follow Leelee, and she was online.

#
LitLuv13 #WriteWidows Y’all r amazing! Thx for drinks & luv

Huh, the Widows had their own hashtag thingamajig. That was cool. Maybe I
’d sign up after all.

Another tweet popped up from LeeleesSong:
Lulz @Felicity Stone is yummy but he’s off the market

Oh Christ, she
’s tweeting about me?
As soon as I blinked, before I had time to ferret out Felicity’s leading tweet, @LeeleesSong flashed up again.

@Dev Nope j
ust friends with Stone ;)

Hmm,
I was working hard to change the just-friends status faster than I could change a flat tire.

Ohai @
Jaque_line mm hmm defs Alpha Male material

Alpha male, was I? I Googled that . . .
pronto, and was pleased with what I read, yeah, I could work that angle.

I leaned back against the headboard
. Leelee had me tied in fucking knots and, as usual, rock solid. I went to the door, cracked it, and looked out into the empty corridor. Satisfied Nicky wouldn’t burst in on me, I hurried back to my phone and searched for the LitLuv flash-mob. I hit the link and whaddya know? A video bloomed across my miniature screen. Forwarding to the tango, I waited until the camera zoomed in on Leelee and me.
Holy fuck.
Seeing it as a bystander was almost as hot as when she’d been pressed against my body.

Cursing
the stingy display on my phone, I viewed the goddamn thing three more times, wishing for Surround Sound and a big ass, flat-screen HDTV. Nicky’s laptop was on the desk, buried beneath a tower of papers and potato chip wrappers. Jumping from the bed, I double-checked the door this time. I wasn’t a total schmuck.

I cracked the computer open, gave myself a free pass for breaking and entering, and attempted his password.
Nickyloveromance.
Master hacker? Hell yes, I was. I made sure not to touch any of his open documents. There were thirteen in all including his WIP, outline, upcoming Q/As, pic files, promo spots, and follow-ups. I hovered over his two open web browsers long enough to note what I expected: Amazon, Goodreads, Twitter, Facebook x two, Pimpterest, Instagram . . . and then a whole lotta what I could only call
research
. Porn in the name of his books.
The bastard’s been holdin’ out on me.

Thinking about Ray and cookies and caches, I opened Google Chrome and left Nicky
’s Mozilla and IE tabs alone. I’d close Chrome out and he’d never be the wiser. Navigating to the convention homepage, I bingo’d the tango once again.

Then boing.
Instant boner.

Big screen was even better.

Leelee in that svelte black dress and short black hair shook her hips to entice me. She blew me a kiss with cherry red lips over her bare shoulder to excite me. My hands moved up her back to her neck, meshing her against me so we met from thigh to hips to chest to breath. And then we kissed. Violent, frenzied. Tongues appearing, hands grabbing, mouths taking.

I wanted to see that kiss, to feel her lips
blazing me up like a blowtorch, one more time.

Several loops later, I
’d pulled the chair to the desk, the laptop to me. I was practically on top of it, my gaze
glued to the image of Leelee and me kissing for all we were worth.

The only warning I had
of Nicky sneaking in was a smack to the back of my head. I tried to shut down Chrome, but his fingers clamped down on my wrist.

He stared at the flash-mob video then spun my chair around.
“Who’s the stalker now, Stone?”

“
Who’s the creeper, dillweed?”

With an almighty slap he closed the laptop. His hair and collar were loose, his lips swollen. I narrowed my eyes when he accused,
“You fucking kissed her!”

“
And who have you been mackin’ on, bro?” I stood up and pushed him back. “I recognize that
I’m-gonna-get-some
look.” I sniffed his throat. “Lipgloss, watermelon flavor, right there, asshole.”

“
Guilty, but it wasn’t with one of the insiders, and it certainly isn’t gonna end up on YouTube.”

“
You smell like perfume.”

He jabbed my chest.
“You smell like spunk.”

“
You’re a few hours late for that.”

Sliding down the floral-
papered wall, Nicky hauled his knees to his chest. “Shit, man. Just keep it in your pants for three more days.”

I hunkered beside him.
“You’re the one who wanted me to settle down. Now I find a woman and I can’t make a move?”

“
I didn’t think you’d find the girl of your dreams here, Josh.”

“
I didn’t think I’d find her ever.” Punching to my feet, I paced between our bed and the desk. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“
Not here, Josh. Not now.” Frustration crept into his voice.

I pounded the wall.
“Goddammit!”

“
We’ll figure something out after.”

“
Yeah, and how’s that gonna work? Leelee already thinks I’m gay, at best bi-curious. Her ex-fiancé is a two-timing, backdoor douchebag. She isn’t gonna be impressed if I come out straight after the Con, and you still have your rep to think about.”

He opened his mouth and
then shut it tight.

“
Exactly. I’m fucked.”

Nicky glared at me with cool eyes.
“So, you know the score. Why are you being such a bitch about this?”

The bitch comment
wiped the scowl right off my face. “Holy shit. Who died and made you princess?”

“
Fuck you. I’m the queen and don’t you forget it.” He lunged for my midsection and we crashed to the floor.

“
Straight up,” I wheezed with his forearm across my windpipe.

Grabbing
a chunk of my hair, he thunked my head to the carpet. “Ha ha.”

Incapacitating the slick motherfucker with my arms and legs, I used my superior body mass to flip him onto his back.
“Who’s the man now?”

“
Me!” He gasped when I sucker-punched him in the ribs.

We rolled around, wrestling, laughing and half off our heads from sheer exhaustion
. Finally he held up his hands in mercy, stumbling onto the bed.

I back-planted beside him and dragged his noggin in for a last noogie.

“You’re still an asshole.” Nicky rubbed his sore skull.

“
But I still don’t lick asshole.”

Fist
bump.
All good.

Until Nicky turned on his pillow.
“Remember the time that chick thought you were gonna propose to her—”

Her name I would never forget
—but not for lack of trying. “Shayna.” Single mom, wore desperation like the cloying perfume clinging to Nicky, and laughed like a hyena.

“
—because she’d heard about your rep and you saw her three Friday nights in a row? What’d she do when you changed your cell number after she texted you every hour on the hour for five days straight?’

“
She made a scene at Stone’s. I think Javier videoed it on his phone. First she threw a chair at the reception window, and then she started bawlin’ in front of the customers. When I tried to get her to take it to my office, she accused me of leading her on—which I never did. All the ladies know the deal with me. She finally left. Not before she slashed all the tires on my Bronco.”
Great times with Shayna.

“
Good thing she never got her paws on the Camaro, since that’s your one true love.”

I flicked him on the end of his nose.
“I think I might’ve tipped her over the edge when I offered to give her an
adios
fuck.”

“
Not your most chivalrous moment, my man.” Nicky closed his eyes, sleep about to pull him under. “’Sides, you attract crazy.”

“
That explains you, then, don’t it?”

“
Funny guy,” he tiredly slurred.

“
Tough guy.” I gave him my butch voice and bunched up my muscles.

But I wasn
’t made of tough guy material at all, not when I thought about Leelee and everything I wanted with her. I didn’t want her to become a girlfriend revenge story, and she wasn’t even my girlfriend yet.

By the time I checked the clock, it was time to haul out. I set the alarm on Nicky
’s phone so he’d have a few minutes to wake up, freshen up, and make it to my debut as a strutting stud in Jules’s contest.

When
I opened our door on the way to Guys with Balls, the Hens about fell inside. They looked a little hectic from all the eavesdropping they must’ve been doing.

“
Y’all got an appointment, ladies?” I tried to look stern, in the white terrycloth robe Jules had sent to my room, fedora in my hands.

Janice
was back to the hippy look today, complemented by lemon-yellow lenses in her sunglasses. “Because of unnecessary lemons,” she mentioned in answer to my pointed glance.

“
Only lemons I know are bad cars,” I said.

“
Fanfic reference, hot stuff, never you mind.”

Just when I was about to ask what the hell fanfic was, Jacqueline
slipped between us. “Is everything all right in there?”

“
Peachy keen.” I smirked at Missy Peachtree.

Missy
pushed a foot inside the door to keep it open and pierced me with an all-too-knowing stare. “Just rolling like a stone, right?”

Janice sidled up to me.
“That sounded like a really big bust up in there.”

“Trouble on the rough seas?” Jacqueline scanned my legs and the loose robe as I turned down the hall.

“Or maybe just really rough sex,” I called back over my shoulder. “Y’all will be at the contest?”

Swoons, sighs, tweeting!

Yeah, I’m all over this shit now.

****

Feeling like a dude headed for a slaughter but dressed up for a spa day, I ignored all the camera flashes, all the giggles, all the titters sent in my direction as I motivated to the appointed room. Someone else had seen the tango-de-stupido and it wasn’t just me. More like a thousand-plus someone elses.

As soon as I shouldered between the heavy black curtains to backstage, Jules pounced on me.
“Stone! You’re late.” She pinched my ear and squeezed my ass. She ripped off my robe and hollered through the megaphone, “Clothes! Hair! Oil! STAT!” She slapped my chest. “Just remember, act natch but don’t act. Make it sexay but not obvie, mm’kay?”

“
Right,” I replied as I stood bare ass naked in the middle of a bunch of similarly undressed beefcakes.

A pair of dark brown leathers was handed to me, and a pair of women barely waited until I pulled them over my legs before pushing me into a chair in front of a mirror.

“Spike it?” Female number one with fuchsia stripes in her hair asked her companion.

A glimmering tongue-ring appeared from the other woman
’s mouth as she tapped it against her teeth. “Fauxhawk?”

“
Not long enough.” Long-nailed fingers scraped along my scalp.

“
Keep Stone
au naturel
. He’s already fit, fine, and fu-hot,” Jules barked through the megaphone, stalking past us.

Assured I was
au naturel
enough to pass muster, I was released to the fitting area. Male models streamed past me as rock music blasted from speakers overhead.

“
Gah! Exact fit.” My seamstress slid her fingers around the waist of my pants, along the inseam and down to my feet. “Shoes?”