“I don’t remember limbs being severed, but you didn’t always have to be the one to take care of all the drunk idiots. You could have had fun too, Emma.”
“I did.” I flip open the lid of the pizza and grab a slice. Grease drips off it, just like every other New York-style pizza as I fold it length-wise and bring it to my mouth. “I’ve just had a little bit more fun in college.”
Before he grabs a piece of pizza, he steps forward, encroaching on my space and places his hands on my hips, his fingers igniting a wave of heat in my body.
What the?
Before I can ask what he’s doing and get too distracted by the delicious smell of his cologne, he lifts me up on the counter and then steps toward the pizza box to grab a slice for himself. He sits on the counter across from me and says, “Now you’re living under my roof, I demand that you have fun these last few months of college. No more of this taking care of people shit. We are all grown-ups, if we decide to sit in a pile of poison ivy, that’s our own damn fault.”
I laugh out loud, thinking back to the party last summer where Amy sat in poison ivy and I spent the night with her bare ass in my face as I tried to dab it with itching lotion.
Continuing, he adds, “I’m serious. You have a few months before you have to start acting responsibly. Might as well let loose these last couple of months, right?”
“I have been letting loose.”
“Yeah, but I want to see it, not just hear about it.” He winks and takes another bite of his pizza. No wonder Sadie had such an off-again on-again relationship with this man. He oozes sex appeal with just one simple wink.
“It’s nothing special, you know. Me drunk and all.” I pick at the cheese on my slice, feeling a little nervous around him, a feeling I’ve never felt before. All because one wink? Get a grip, Emma!
He shakes his head and takes a sip of the Angry Orchard he bought for us, wincing as he swallows. “I’m not just talking about getting drunk, I want to see you loosen up.” He takes another bite and holds up his finger while he chews. Once he swallows, he says, “I’ve known you for a long time, Emma, and every time I’ve seen you, you were either playing nurse for our dumbass friends, or your nose was stuck in a book, studying—”
“For good reason. You don’t want a nurse treating you who has no idea what she’s doing, now do you?” Does he think I’m boring? Gosh, I hope not.
“I really don’t.” He chuckles. “But that being said, I have a rule for this household.”
“Yeah? Is it buy furniture so we don’t have to sit on counters?”
Chuckling, he shakes his head. “Didn’t you see the last issue of uh . . .” He scratches the back of his neck and looks up at me through his eyelashes, boyish charm written all over his face. “Shit, I don’t know any decorating magazines, there goes my joke.”
“Oh, does Playboy not offer interior decorating ideas? Is it really just about the articles?”
He nods and points his bottle at me right before he brings it to his lips. “That and the tits, Emma. You can’t forget the tits.”
I roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never looked at one.”
“Seriously?”
I nod. “Seriously. Why would I? I don’t want to diddle myself to bare-breasted women.”
The strain in his neck is evident as he swallows hard from my comment. He clears his throat and asks, “Do you diddle yourself?”
“Do you think that’s an appropriate question to ask your friend?”
He studies me, his intense once-over drawing a line from my toes to my eyes, causing a shiver to run up my spine. “Fuck yeah, it’s an appropriate question.”
“Fine, do you self-mutilate?”
“Yes,” he says without skipping a beat. “Come on, that was a toss-up question. Every guy does and if he tells you otherwise, he’s a liar who probably does it twice a day.”
“Twice a day? Doesn’t that hurt after a while?”
Tucker laughs and hops off the counter to grab another slice of pizza. When he stands next to me, I catch a second whiff of his cologne . . . what is that heavenly smell? A little sweet, a little woodsy, with a huge dose of pheromones . . .
“Babe, if you’re using any kind of lubricant, you can rub one out as many times as you want.”
Babe? God, that’s cute coming from him.
“Yeah? What’s your record for one day of masturbation?”
Did. I. Just. Ask. Tucker. Jameson. How. Many. Times. A. Day. He. Masturbates?
Emma!
“Like how many times?” He bites his slice but doesn’t retreat back to his counter; noooo, he stands next to me, his broad frame making me feel tiny.
Answering his question, I nod.
“Hmm, all-time record?” He calculates in his head, a smirk on his face. “I would have to say about thirty.”
“Thirty?” I nearly choke on my drink as I spit out the number. “How on earth could you get hard thirty times in one day?”
He’s laughing now. His hand is wrapped around his waist as he bends over. That gives me a great view of his back muscles flexing with every bout of laughter. The sound is deep, earthquake-esque, shaking my entire body to its core.
“You’re stupid.” Mature, I know. I hop off the counter and carry my drink and another slice of pizza toward my bedroom. I don’t make it past the kitchen doorway before Tucker is wrapping his strong arm around my waist, halting me in my progress. I freeze from his hold, and goosebumps spread like a curtain of arousal as his low laugh filters through my ear. His heat surrounds me, capturing me.
“Don’t be like that. Remember, loosen up.”
I turn on him, our bodies only a few inches a part, and I hold back the catch in my breath, not wanting to show him how much he’s affecting me right now. I’m tired, that’s what this is all about. I’m just tired. And it’s been QUITE a long time since I’ve had sex.
“Fine, you want me to loosen up?”
He nods, putting some more distance between us to grab his drink that he clearly is only drinking to quench his thirst, not because he’s loving the appley taste. “I do, that’s why I’m setting the rule that once a week, you have to put down the books and do something fun.”
“Oh, is that how this is going to work?” I tease. “Your house, your rules?”
“Damn right.” He smirks over his drink.
“Do I have any say in the matter?”
He shakes his head and then a slow, drawn-out smile starts to spread across his face. Uh oh, something is brewing in that handsome head of his and I’m not actually convinced I’ll handle whatever he’s coming up with.
Shit.
Chapter Six
TUCKER
“Grab a pen and a pad of paper,” I say to Emma as I bring the pizza box into the dining room along with our six-pack of gross cider.
“Should I be nervous? You’re not going to make up some kind of weird blood pact where we have to eat the eye of a squid and share a tentacle Lady and the Tramp style, are you?”
“What?” I laugh and shake my head. “No, just get the pen and paper. Christ, woman.”