Chapter 17
Smut-tastic
Harley
Since I felt guilty Kaz spent a whole day taking care of me instead of attending to his businesses, I made sure not to bother him.
After breakfast, I went for a long walk in my new neighborhood.
I combed the streets lined with beautiful multimillion dollar homes, showcasing manicured shrubbery and an impressive display of colorful flowers.
The florist in me was as giddy as a kid skipping to the candy store.
Even when life was good and I was living in the Bronx, it was never as good as this tree-lined, posh residential area of elegant brownstones and historical carriage houses.
I could get used to life along the East River.
When I returned to the carriage house, Kaz was in the middle of a conference call. I hate that he had to interrupt his call because I didn’t have a key.
Dinner was pretty much a repeat of yesterday. We ate on the deck under the stars and we were treated to a lip-smacking meal of charred shrimp, grilled veggies, and another round of that incredible bread from Number 22 Grill.
Since Kaz had more work to do, I insisted on cleaning up the kitchen and the deck where we ate. After tidying up the second floor which includes another living room area, I made my way to the third floor to take a shower.
I put on an oversize gray t-shirt and a pair of pink yoga pants, and slide into the most comfortable bed on the planet. I prop the pillows against the bedrest, lean against them, and shimmy my ass against the mattress until I’m comfortable.
After sleeping on the lumpy mattress of a second-hand futon that smelled like a marijuana dispensary with an on-site smoking lounge, this deluxe mattress is a dream. Same for the silky cotton sheets with a thread count higher than my bank balance.
Living with Kaz is temporary, but until this fairytale ends, I’ll count my blessings.
I reach for the book on the nightstand, bring it close to my nose, and run the edge back and forth like I’m sniffing a premium cigar. “There’s nothing better than the smell of a new book.” Thank you, Kaz, for feeding my addiction.
Time to escape reality.
I open it up to the bookmark.
This hockey romance is off the charts dirty.
A man who has the ability to pick an amazing romance book is a keeper.
He gets extra brownie points for that talent.
A disturbing thought slams through me.
Too bad he’d never give a girl with my background the time of the day.
Being his fake girlfriend for an evening is as much as I can hope for.
Enough with these silly thoughts.
I slip back into another universe, where my life isn’t a shit show, and lose myself in the story.
My eyes race across the pages, heart picking up its pace as Will grabs hold of Marnie’s wrist and pulls her close to his body. Marnie gasps and her blue eyes lift and land on the goalie’s lips.
I hold my breath.
Will walks them both forward until Marnie’s back hits the door, keeping her hostage.
I swallow.
Will lowers his head until his lips are flirting with Marnie’s.
Kiss.
Kiss.
Kiss.
“That pretty little mouth is mine,” Will says.
My excitement bubbles over when they kiss.
Will’s free hand encircles Marnie’s neck and he deepens the kiss as his grip tightens around her throat.
Hand necklace.
I squeal with delight and bang my heels against the bed
Let the heart-thumping scenes begin.
I devour a few more pages and I’m rewarded when they’re about to get it on.
Bring on the spicy.
“Ooo, that’s hot.” I read a few more paragraphs.
“Holy hell.” The grumpy hockey player has the heroine on her hands on the mattress and he’s propping her hips up so her knees no longer touch the bed as he drives into her like an army tank.
“How is she able to withstand that kind of brute force without collapsing to the bed?” It’s like he’s fucking her in the downward dog position.
I’m pretty sure Kaz has no idea he bought me a smut-tastic read.
Hmmm…
I drop the paperback on the bed, fling the covers off, and stand on the mattress. I wouldn’t call myself a yoga girlie, but I’ve done a few classes, so I assume the downward dog position.
I rock my body back and forth as if a hot, sexy, grumpy hockey player is punishing my pussy with his massive cock.
Damn.
I rock with more intensity.
Now I understand why the heroine was panting like she was out of breath and the hero was grunting like an animal.
With all that brute, masculine force emanating from his big, strong body, I bet Kaz is not only a beast on the ice, I’m sure he’s a beast between the sheets.
A knock at the door startles me.
With my head upside down, my eyes bounce to the door.
Yee.
I drop out of the incriminating position and attempt to get under the covers. In my panic, I fumble and my foot gets tangled in the sheet. I lose my balance and land on the floor with a loud thump.
“Ouch.” The area rug doesn’t do much to soften the blow.
“Harley?” The door flies open.
Oh, no.
Kaz can’t find me in this position. Not after what I was attempting to do.
I cradle my head between my arms to hide my embarrassment.
Rushed steps resonate against the floor until they stop in front of me. “What the hell happened?”
I lift my head and stare at two very long feet.
Even his feet are sexy.
He must get pedicures—
“Harley?”
I lift my gaze and I’m met with worried blue eyes. “How did you manage to fall off the bed?”
Kill me now, God.
I swallow. “I… I…” I was trying to reproduce a raunchy sexual position in one of the hockey romance books you bought me. And wondering what kind of lover you are. “Maybe I had too much wine to drink at dinner.”
Kaz frowns, his eyebrows nearly touching. “You didn’t finish your second glass.”
Thanks for being so observant.
“Well, I didn’t want to be too dehydrated tomorrow morning when I wake up, so I was going to make my way downstairs to get a glass of water. You know what they say? Hydration is very important when you consume alcohol.”
His expression suggests he doesn’t have a damn clue what I’m talking about.
Neither do I, buddy. Neither do I.
“The water throughout the house goes through a filtration system, so you could’ve headed to the bathroom for a glass of water. Also, every bathroom in the house has glass tumblers.”
“Got it.” Gosh, he bought my lie.
“I’m going to help you up and then I’ll get you a glass of water.” Kaz stretches out both hands, and I reach out for them.
He yanks me to my feet.
The momentum—or his incredible strength––causes me to crash into a wall of muscle.
His hands move to my lower back. “I got you.”
Heat from his body radiates through me, and the wires in my brain short circuit.
For a few breaths, we stare at each other.
The energy in the air is potent.
What are you doing?
I shall not pine for my roommate and soon to be fake boyfriend.
I snap out of the spell I’m under, wiggle out of his hold, and take a step back, distancing myself from my ex-boyfriend’s ex-stepdad so I don’t tip him off I was having unholy thoughts about him.
Kaz clears his throat.
I do the same.
He scans my body. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“No.” Only my bruised ego.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he revoked my fake girlfriend status after that.
“Give me a second and I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” I wrap my arms around my body, conscious I’m not wearing a bra.
Kaz stops at the door. “If you want, I can go downstairs and get you a pitcher of water.”
“Water in. Water out. Too much water, and I’ll spend more time in the bathroom than in bed. Wouldn’t want that to happen. A girl needs her beauty sleep.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
I wince.
You’re such a dork. The man must think you hit your head. “I’m okay.” I’m a little awkward at the moment, but nothing that requires me to visit the ER. “A glass will do.”
“Be right back.”
My eyes land on his retreating form.
He’s changed to a pair of gray sweatpants that do a phenomenal job at showcasing his firm ass. And that white long sleeve t-shirt stretches over his bulging biceps, shoulders, and muscular back.
Kaz may no longer be an NHL player, but clearly, he still works out like a man vying for a Stanley Cup.
I approve.
Kaz returns in a flash.
He hands me the glass, and I gulp it down.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” He points to the bed. “How do you like the book?”
I blush. “It’s a great read… There’s so much chemistry between the main characters.” And for a moment, I stepped into the heroine’s shoes and you were the hero and I was able to live out my SDILF fantasy.
Not sure if there’s such a thing as a ‘stepdads I’d like to fuck’ fantasy, but if there isn’t, I’d like to consider myself a pioneer.
“Glad I didn’t pick a terrible book,” he says.
You, sir, know how to pick good smut.
“Time to go to bed.” He jerks his chin toward the bed.
Time to find out which other contortionist-worthy positions are going to be explored. “Good idea.”
I expect him to walk out of the room, but instead, he makes his way to the armchair. He grabs the blanket, sits in the chair, and covers his body.
Huh? “Are you sleeping… in my room?” Since this is his house, it’s his room, but… what the hell?
“I want to be close by in case you have a nightmare.”
I stare at him slack-jawed.
“I don’t know what triggered last night’s nightmare, and I don’t know if you have them often, but if you do, I’ll be here for you.”
In a matter of minutes, I go through myriad emotions––turned on by a romance, freaked out and humiliated for getting caught re-enacting a saucy scene from my book, turned on by this man, and now… my heart is about to burst wide open.
How can a man I barely know care this much about me?
My family never gave two shits unless they needed me to act as their personal ATM machines.
My casual hookups were too short-lived for the guy to give a damn.
Most of the few ex-boyfriends I’ve had were selfish.
My father took a page from my mom’s book and never treated me like I matter.
Kaz Lindstrom is raising the bar way high.