Eight Days a Week (7 page)

Gwen’s smile was wide. “I like all music.”

I snorted. “Why do people say shit like that? You like
all
music?”
 

She nodded.
 

“So you like jazz? Synth pop? Electronica? How about industrial? Is that up your alley?”

“I’m sorry. I meant to say I like all
good
music.” She threw a dirty look my way then turned back to Ian. “So, Ian, what do you do?”

“I own a Monkey Joe’s. Andrew brings Brady by during the week. Our mutual friend Xander sent him my way, and now he comes and lets Brady run around while he chills with my other regular, Marlowe.”

Gwen raised her eyebrows, and she looked at me pointedly. “Marlowe. Nice.” She shifted closer to Ian, turning her back to block me out. “So you know Xander? I hear he’s a great guy.”

“How the hell do you know about Xander?” I asked.

Ian and Gwen looked at each other and then away.

“Cece talks about him at work sometimes.” The blush on Gwen’s cheeks was deepening. “She says you guys are friends and go way back. That’s all.”

Ian cleared his throat and placed the guitar back in its case. “Andrew and I are going out to Xander’s bar tomorrow night with some friends. It’s called the Black Hole. You should come. I do a couple of songs on Saturday nights.”

Gwen’s face lit up. “I’d love to. Thanks for inviting me.” Her eyes slid over in my direction. “Will your girlfriend be there, Ian?”

He laughed and cracked his knuckles. “I am the definition of single at the moment.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-one.”

“Perfect.” She got up from the couch and stretched. “It was nice to meet you. See you tomorrow.” She turned to face me and bit her lip. “You have a guest, so I guess we can talk tomorrow?”

I nodded, dumbstruck.

She smiled again and walked back up the stairs.

I waited until I heard her shut the door. And then at least thirty seconds more so I wouldn’t look as eager as I felt.

“Be right back,” I said to Ian as I went after her on unsteady feet.
 

She was in the kitchen pouring a glass of wine, and I leaned against the counter and frowned at her. “Want his number?”

She laughed and wine spilled over the rim of the glass. “Wow. You have so much personality tonight, Dee.” She wiped down the counter and turned to face me, a look of amusement in her eyes. “He’s not my type.”

“Really.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my voice. Her public display downstairs was making me want to push her against the wall and show her who the better man was.

“Yeah,
really
,” she said. “I like tall guys, but I’m not into all those muscles.”

She had my full attention.

“My friend, Tess, on the other hand, loves guys like that. He’s in her age range and he owns a Monkey Joe’s, which will just make her turn to liquid on the spot. Her son loves that kind of stuff. I was thinking I could bring her tomorrow night, too, if she can get a sitter.”

“Oh. I guess that could be fun.”

“Is your Marlowe going to be there?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. With a date.”

There. We’d laid it out.

The kids were at Debra’s until Sunday. I’d have a whole night alone in the house with Gwen. Maybe she’d invite me into her room.

Maybe she’d get to have a one-on-one with Don.

My inebriated state made me take a step closer. “So are we going to talk now?”

She shook her head and set down her glass. “You’re drunk. And you have Ian downstairs.”

“He’s about to leave.”

“But you’re still drunk.”

I blinked lazily and made a
pfft
sound. “Whatever. Fine.”

Her lips pulled up into a coy smile, and she tipped her glass my way. “No judgment. I plan on getting drunk, too. When he leaves, you can come up and watch a movie with me on the big TV if you want to.”

“Maybe.”

I needed to get Ian out of the house immediately.

“Then
maybe
I’ll see you later.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief before she turned and sauntered upstairs, shaking her ass on purpose.

I raced down to my apartment, and Ian was standing at the door with a strange look on his face.
 

“Go get her. I’m out of here.” He waved and then gave me a salute as he headed out into the night.

I circled around in a frenzy, yanking at my clothes and grabbing my pajama bottoms, sans shirt, of course. No reason to start playing shy now. I debated brushing my teeth—that was a hard one. Have toothpaste breath and be obvious? Or bring the rest of the beer and hope she liked Heineken, too?

I grabbed the beer. No need to look like a loser.

She was sitting on the couch with her red hair pulled into a ponytail, and as I rounded the front of the couch, I had to stop myself from choking. Shorts. She was in tiny pajama shorts and a tank top. And from where I was standing, she did not appear to be wearing a bra.

This was worth all the
YoGabbaGabba
in the world. I’d even watch a
Wiggles
marathon.

“Hey.” She patted the couch next to her. Then she reached over to refill her glass of wine, stretching out across the couch arm, letting her shirt ride up over her stomach.

I sat, trying my best to look bored. Pajama pants might not have been the best of ideas if I wanted to maintain my façade. So I opted for being an asshole. “You never came back last night.” Instead of looking at her, I concentrated on the flashing images on the television.

“I know.”

“Not that I waited.”

I felt the couch vibrate with her giggles. “Of course not. Andrew Lyons waits for no one, right?”

I turned to look at her. “What has Cece told you about me?”

She looked down to her lap. “Nothing much. I don’t get the feeling you two are close.”

“Let’s just start the movie.” That wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have. Especially not that night.

She chose something from On Demand, and we watched in silence, but the latest
Paranormal Activity
was a bad idea if she didn’t want to end up in my lap.

Or maybe she
did
and that’s why she’d picked it. She inched closer and closer to me until she was pressed against my arm and shivering.
 

“Cold?” I whispered.
 

She answered with an embarrassed nod, crossing her arm across her chest to try to cover her nipples, so I grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and spread it out over us as she snuggled against me again.

That’s about the time I stopped watching the movie because I couldn’t concentrate to save my life. She was so small and soft, warm and . . . soft. And she smelled good. Like girlie lotion and shampoo and maybe some perfume or something. My brain was fuzzy enough that I debated whether to try to inconspicuously sniff her head.

She was watching the screen so hard every little scare made her jump and rub against me. I had to wonder why she bothered watching horror movies at all. But then I was glad she did, because she reached out and gripped my thigh . . . except she aimed a little too high.
 

Don was ecstatic with her handshake.
 

She turned toward me and her mouth dropped open, but her hand didn’t move.
 

I gave her a look that I hoped conveyed I was more than okay with this development.
 

She dropped her gaze to the blanket and then pulled it back with her other hand. I sat stone-still as her eyes adjusted in the dim light and she leaned in to see what she had in her palm.

The look of impressed wonder made my inner teenager lock himself in the bathroom with a
Playboy
.

Her thighs rubbed together, and she angled her body to face me as her hand slid across my obvious reaction to her touch.

“What’s up?” I asked coolly.

She bit her lip while her fingers trailed up and across my shaft to the head.
 

Don purred like a kitten.

“Can I see it?” she whispered.

“Yes?”

I meant
yes, please
.

“You know what I think? I think you’ve been teasing me on purpose. Losing your shirt at dinner. Walking around in that towel. You’re a man tease. A mease.”

She was right and I wanted to laugh, but Don was about to make his Gwen debut, and I didn’t want him to make a bad impression.

Slowly, she dipped both sets of fingers into the top of my pajama pants, and I lifted my hips so she could pull them down until my cock sprang free.
 

“Wow.” Tearing her gaze from my junk to my face, she was bleary-eyed. “Do you know why I left you alone last night? Because of this. It’s bad that I wanted you to kiss me, right? That I wanted to . . .” She shimmied over and straddled my hips, pressing her warmth against me. “I just want to feel it,” she whispered.
 

I lifted a hand to her side and another to her face. “
Just
feel it?”

“Don’t you ever need to just . . . feel?” she asked, her lips just out of reach. “Anything. Everything.
Something
.”

My hands tightened on her as she sank down onto my lap. Any resolve to stifle my moans was waning.

“It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything.”

I trailed a hand across her cheek and slid the other into her shirt. Her skin was so soft beneath my fingertips and sensitive to my touch. I could feel the wake of goose bumps left behind as my hand traveled higher.

She sighed against my lips then parted them to flick her tongue against my teeth. Without another second of hesitation, our lips met.
 

It was damn near perfect, the way her lips fit in between mine, the softness of her tongue in my mouth. She reached for my sides and pulled her body closer, slid her arms around my back, and dug into the skin with her fingernails. I pushed into her, craving more contact as the kiss deepened. I wrapped one hand around her hair and the other around her waist, my chest crushing hers as our hips pressed together.

She made little breathy whimpers and moans against my mouth, and I concentrated on their vibration against my lips. I tightened my grip on her hair, holding her head in place while I assaulted her with hungry kisses.

She ran her fingers up my back and gripped my hair, pulling tight while she fought to keep my lips on hers, and I smiled.

We were desperate. And needy. We were alike.

Don was tired of playing solitaire.

She was rubbing her panty-covered clit against my cock, and I could feel the moistening of the cotton as she moved.
 

“Did you have to take care of this last night?” She smiled against my cheek, placing her hands on my shoulders and sliding up again.

Lie. Lie. Lie.

“Yes.” It felt like I was choking.

“Can I take care of it tonight?”

I almost blew my load right there. Did she just ask to jack me off?

Instead of answering, I slapped both hands on her ass cheeks and ground her against me. Shoving my tongue in her mouth, I pressed my hips into her, and she pushed back to meet my advances. My fingers trailed under the elastic of those panties, and I gripped her ass as hard as I could.

“Andrew.”
 

I really liked the way she said my name.
 

I slipped my fingers further inside her panties and brushed them against her. She was soaking wet, and she bucked into me, causing an inferno of lust to explode inside me.
 

“Do I get to touch you?” I hissed as she bit my lower lip.

“Yes.”

But I wasn’t ready to give up my current position. It was my favorite view. “Take off your shirt, Gwen. I want to see you.”

It was off before I finished the sentence. Her tits bounced in my face, and I lunged forward to capture one hard nipple in my mouth. For a second I thought I’d been too rough, but she squealed and gripped my hair, shoving my face down harder.
 

Oh. Gwen Stone liked it a little rough.

“More.” She panted and writhed against my lap. As I moved my fingers closer to the Promised Land, I flattened my tongue across her chest and then bit down lightly on her other nipple. She tensed and almost shouted, the sound buried in her throat. I gripped her underwear and peeled them off, leaving her wet and ready and
right there
.

I cupped her, and my thumb pressed into her clit while I attended to her breasts some more. The more pressure I used and the harder I sucked, the more she squirmed.

She was everywhere, and my hand was slick with her wetness and heat. My thighs. My dick. But I still wanted more.

“Do you like that?” I asked.

She whimpered, “Yes,” before I ran my fingers below her clit and grunted at how slippery she was. My two fingers traced her entrance, teasing, asking for permission.