9. Outer Space Treaty
NINE
OUTER SPACE TREATY
Rose
I’m not hung over. So that’s something.
Vance snores, looking sexy as hell sprawled out on his back, one arm over his head.
That’s something too.
I would’ve thought, in the cold light of day, I’d regret my decision to come home with him last night. Or at least my laziness to not vamoose after he wrung the fifth orgasm from my body in the wee hours of the morning.
But I don’t. Instead I shiver as a long-lost orgasmic aftershock runs through my body. I close my eyes and enjoy the superpower of orgasm muscle memory that only surfaces after a stellar bout of sexy times.
Well done, Vance. Well done.
Rolling toward the nightstand, I look for a clock.
Nothing but a lamp. But seeing as the sunlight’s soft outside, it’s probably early.
I can sneak out and Uber my way to Flynn and Jackie’s, where I left my car before “girls’ night.
” Catch some more sleep in their guest room or just head to the city.
Hashtag walk of shame time.
I hang over the side of the bed and swat at the floor, hoping my phone’s somewhere down there, all while wondering if I can even get an Uber this early in the suburbs.
The snoring comes to an abrupt stop, and Vance rolls toward me, throwing his arm over my waist and pulling me into his morning erection. “You up?”
“Well, it’s clear that you are.”
He laughs, the shake of his body doing great things for the long and hard appendage rubbing against my ass.
Wanting to stay, but not wanting to cross any lines about what this is, I shift to the edge of the bed. “I better get going.”
He lets me slip out of his grasp but sits up when I stand. “Why?”
I glance around the bedroom, looking for my clothes. “It’s easier this way. I’ll just go to Jackie and Flynn’s before they wake up and tell them I was there all night and they just didn’t notice.” I find my panties and pull them up.
“But why?”
I ignore the sexy morning rasp in his voice and snatch my jeans off the floor. “Are you only thinking with your small brain this morning?”
He looks down at the erection popping a tent in the sheets, then back at me, perplexed.
“Ugh.” I huff and pull the legs of my pants right side out and step into them.
“If my friends know I stayed here, there’ll be questions.
Questions I don’t feel like answering. Questions you should be wary of because they will be coming from your co-workers.
” At least, those are some of my reasons.
I leave out the one where, as much as I loved last night, I don’t want to get used to it.
Because in my experience, all good things end.
True, my friends have helped me witness the power of true love (insert cheesy Hallmark trailer here), but that’s them, and this is me .
And let me just remind myself how much older Vance is than me.
Which doesn’t matter in the sack, ’cause all those life experience skills have really paid off.
But his age does mean he’s established in life.
He already had his quarter life crisis. He not only figured out what he wanted to do, he became the best at it and then flew into space for it.
He’s a high-profile person due to all his career accomplishments.
Not like me—a benefactor of someone else’s success.
He’s also surrounded by people, women , just like him. People like Jules and Jackie.
Which is fine. Great, even. I love Jules and Jackie. But I’m not them.
I’m well aware of what I am. I’m the good time. The laughs. The remember-when girl.
I’m cool with that. It got me this far. But now I should be more. Do more.
I jump up and down to shift my weight into the tight denim. Fuck, skinny jeans are the worst.
Vance apparently doesn’t think so because his eyes are on my bouncing boobs, all but drooling.
I roll my eyes at him and find my shirt on the bureau.
Vance’s big brain must finally kick into gear because he gets out of bed and walks to my side as I tug on my shirt.
“Listen, Rosie.” He drops his big hands on my shoulders, stilling my movements. “I like you.”
It’s my big brain’s time to stutter. That rising panic in my chest is back.
It’s probably because he’s standing stark naked in front of me.
And if I thought he was impressive last night, in the pale light of morning, Vance is hypnotizing.
Unlike the boys I dated or banged in the past, he’s full-grown. Dick and all.
His muscles are filled out in a way that speaks of experience and maturity. I want to reach out and see my pale hand sweep along his darker skin. Caress each ridge and tweak each peak.
But I don’t.
Instead, I snort, trying to act unaffected as I shake off his hands to unhook my bra strap from the corner of the mirror. “What are you, twelve?” I slide the hot pink lace into my back pocket.
He lets out a long-suffering sigh, running a hand down his face. “Can you stop being a smart ass for five seconds?”
Tilting my head, I pretend to contemplate the question. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
He steps closer, his hard-on still raging and now less than an inch from my waist. “As I was saying, I like you. And since you were willing to go a second round with me, I’d say you don’t dislike me.” He waits, keeping eye contact.
I purse my lips. “True, but considering that last night I gave you the third and fourth helpings you wanted, I thought this”—I wave my hand between us, the back of my hand making contact with his chest—"was over.”
“Do you want it to be over?” He cups my shoulders once more.
My mouth stays shut. Because even though the throbbing between my thighs and the handsome, imploring man before me makes me want to say no, I’m smart enough to know the answer should be yes.
His thumbs graze my collarbone. “We have fun together.”
I grunt noncommittally as the unintentional barb hits home. Fun.
Then Vance kisses me.
I have no idea how long we stand there kissing, but when he finally slows the kiss, leaning back to meet my eyes, the light coming in from the windows is much brighter than when we started.
His lush lashes fall heavy over his dark eyes, still hazy with lust. “Be with me until I leave on my next mission.”
He says nothing more. Just waits me out.
Mentally I shake my fist at him for knowing silence is my enemy.
Finally, I speak—slow and wary. “Are you thinking of like… a friends with bennies situation?”
“Yeah.” His ab muscles tighten, and I’m pretty sure he is trying not to laugh. “Friends with bennies.”
My lips twitch in spite of myself. Fucker.
But as adorably vexing as he is right now laughing at my particular vernacular, he is also a tall, dark drink of orgasms.
I glance down, confirming the impressiveness of his cock. Yep, ready and waiting.
“So…” I say to his dick. “This is temporary?”
“Yep. I’ll be going up to the ISS in a few months, so why don’t we just…” He waggles his eyebrows when I look up at him.
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “You look like a lecherous old man when you do that.”
“But a hot lecherous old man, right?” He waggles them some more.
Laughing harder, the fight drains out of me. He’s fun. And apparently thinks I am too. So why shouldn’t I enjoy this? It’s not like I have anything else to do. My friends are all in the honeymoon phase of their relationships. I have time to figure out what I need to do next. What I want .
And while I figure that out, I’ll have sex until my clit falls off from overuse.
Sounds like a good time to me.
And a good time is what I’m known for, after all.
Decision made, I whip off my shirt, nearly blinding him with the fabric.
It’s like waving a red flag at a charging bull.
Vance backs me up against the bureau, hands sliding into the back waistband of my jeans, grabbing my ass, going from zero to hero in a second flat.
Not to be left behind, I grab his dick and pump, enjoying his hard grunt.
Yeah, friends with bennies is a great idea.
Vance drops to his knees and with one hard tug takes my pants with him. He stays down to pull my ankles out, kissing the tops of my thighs as he does.
“All right, old man, you win this argument.” I funnel my fingers through his hair and bring his mouth closer to where I need it. “Now make it worth my while.”
And he does.
Vance
“You’re very good at that.”
“What?” Rose’s eyes never leave her phone, her thumbs flying. She’s been on her phone for the past fifteen minutes, while I lay in postcoital bliss.
“Ignoring me.”
She snorts, still not looking at me. “Aw, is the poor little astronaut feeling neglected?”
Even her baby talk is a turn-on.
I roll over, trailing my fingers up her thigh. “Maybe.”
It’s a sad state of affairs when after a round of early morning sex to celebrate our new friends-with-bennies relationship at my apartment, and another fun sexcapade after I drove her home to her penthouse, that I’m pouting over her obvious disregard for my presence.
I should be happy she’s so unattached. In fact, I should be driving home right now congratulating myself on this epic turn of events.
Instead, I’m looking around the room with a frown. This doesn’t seem like a room Rose would live in. I mean, it’s huge and luxurious, as any penthouse apartment would be. But even with all the fancy furniture and décor, it feels kind of empty.
The only thing that seems like Rose is an impressive floor-to-ceiling bookcase stocked with romance novels and pictures of her and her friends. Dead center is a gold framed photo of Jules, Trish and Rose in their bridesmaid dresses on either side of Jackie in her wedding dress.
Everything else in the room and what I saw of the apartment looks straight out of a rich and famous interior design book.
I tap her with my foot under the covers. “Did you read all those?”
Rose’s thumbs stop so her index finger can scroll. “No, I just have them for show.”
Her sarcasm is not lost on me.
I nudge her again.
Sighing, she drops her phone and turns to me, her shoulder against the stack of pillows propping her up. “Yes?”