Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
B oon
I spent the whole weekend ruminating over Shae and what we’d done together.
Listen, I wasn’t exactly a purist when it came to sex.
I felt like two consenting adults shouldn’t restrict themselves sexually.
Bodies were made for pleasure, and this world was hard enough.
Why not indulge in a little pleasure when we could?
The point being, I’d slept with plenty of women in my years on the road and yet not one of them had stuck with me the day after like Shae.
Every second of our time together the last two nights had been memorable, most of it pleasurable.
What I didn’t like was that moment when she kept calling it hate-fucking and then told me to get out after I made her scream my name.
What woman didn’t like a little cuddling after the fact?
Most women begged me to stick around for the night and have breakfast with them in the morning. Shae though? She wanted me gone .
It was weird.
And it was messing with my head.
“There’s no way I’ll find a dress this late,” Kinsley whined to my mom at the dinner table.
I pushed lasagna around my plate, wondering if Shae was going to leave her back door unlocked for me tonight like I’d asked her to.
She owed me a schoolteacher fantasy, but there was one thing I was learning about adult-Shae.
She wasn’t a pushover anymore. If she didn’t want me to sneak in, she’d bar me from entering and wouldn’t apologize for it.
Her newfound self-confidence just made me want her more.
“We can just go to the mall tomorrow after practice and see what the department stores have left. Something is better than nothing, right?”
Homecoming was this weekend, and Kinsley hadn’t stopped talking about it. The two of them kept chatting as I tuned them out. I wondered if Shae would wear her glasses while I fucked her. I really liked her in her glasses.
“Yeah, Tatum said he booked a hotel room for us afterward.”
My head snapped up and I could barely see Kinsley through the sheet of red coloring my vision. “Excuse me?” I thundered, ready to get in my truck and head to Tatum’s house to tell his parents what a little piece of shit he was. Right before I locked Kinsley in her room.
Mom and Kinsley burst out laughing. I narrowed my eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Welcome to the conversation, Dad,” Kinsley said dryly.
“Ha, ha. What did I miss?”
Mom sniffed. “Everything. Where’s your head, boy?” She looked at me over her glass of water, a knowing little smirk there that spelled trouble.
“Coming up with drills for this week’s practice,” I lied.
“Well, I’m going to homecoming with Tatum.” Kinsley held up her hands before I could explode. “No hotel, and we’re going in a group, so you can calm down.”
Now I understood why women hated it when you told them to calm down. I was officially not calming down until Kinsley came back home from the dance without one hair on her head out of place. I grumbled, and the two women cracked up again.
I helped clear the table, and Kinsley and I did the dishes together. Mom went into the living room to knit in front of the television. Kinsley officially didn’t flounce out of every room I was in, and I was taking that as a huge step in our relationship.
“Listen, Kinsley,” I began.
“I am listening. You just have to say something worth listening to,” Kinsley interrupted.
Jesus. “You sound like Ms. Fletcher.”
Kinsley grinned. It made her look about ten years old again. “I know. That’s where I learned it from.”
God help me if the two of them ever teamed up against me. I waved the topic of Ms. Fletcher away. I couldn’t think about her while talking to my daughter. “I don’t mind you going with Tatum, but you’re going to have a curfew. And absolutely no drinking or drugs. Understand?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course. Mom didn’t raise an idiot.”
The innocent comment hit me in the chest. Her mom raised her. Not me. “I know. And I’m thankful every day that she did such a good job.”
Kinsley studied the side of my face as I handed her a rinsed plate. She didn’t put it in the dishwasher. “You know, Mom never said bad things about you.”
I looked at her. Surprised she wanted to talk about this.
She normally shut down all my conversation about her mom or her life with her.
“I’m glad about that too. Your mom’s a good person, Kinsley.
We weren’t married and wouldn’t have worked out as a couple, but that didn’t mean we didn’t care for each other or didn’t respect the other person. ”
Kinsley nodded, putting the dish in the machine finally.
“Yeah. I was talking with Cassie the other day. Her parents are divorced and they hate each other. She says they scream at each other all the time, even on the phone. I guess I just never really considered it could be bad like that between you and Mom. I’m glad it’s not. ”
Well, shit. Maybe I’d done one small thing right when it came to Kinsley. We continued to put the dishes in the dishwasher and clean the countertops in silence. Afterward, she escaped to her room where she kept the door shut and earbuds in.
A little after nine o’clock, I knocked on her door, stuck my head inside and said good night.
I never had to fight her about her bedtime.
She was a dedicated athlete who wanted to get good sleep so her performance the next day was on par.
Even so, I waited until after ten o’clock before I crept out of my room and snuck out the back door.
I held my breath, checking Shae’s back screen door.
Unlocked. One down, one to go. I carefully crossed her screened-in porch and tested the back door knob.
Also unlocked. I threw my fist in the air in a silent celebration of the green light.
I tiptoed inside her house, locking the door behind me and making my way to her bedroom.
Tonight, there was no Shae-shaped lump in the bed.
My head swung toward the movement to my left, my breath seizing in my lungs.
Shae sat in a chair in the far corner of the room, hidden in the shadows. She’d kept all the lights off, but my eyes were adjusting to the darkness and what I saw had my heart pounding. Her legs were crossed, a high heel–clad foot kicking up and down like she’d been waiting impatiently for me.
“You’re late, Boon,” she snapped.
I swallowed and hurried into the room. Fuck, why did that nose-in-the-air voice turn me on like nothing else?
“Sit down, young man.”
I sat on the edge of her bed, taking in her outfit.
She wore a white button-down shirt, unbuttoned indecently low in the front, showing off her incredible cleavage.
She also had on a skirt, but it was riding high, showing off her curvy thighs.
Thick black-rimmed glasses dominated her face, but that didn’t stop me from taking in the bright red lipstick.
She stood, towering over me in her stilettos while I sat looking up at her like I was the luckiest “student” in the whole world. She walked slowly over to me. My hands itched to grab her luscious hips and bury my face in her cleavage. But I wanted to be a good boy for her. Well, up to a point.
“We’re working on our multiplication tables today.” Her eyes gleamed in the darkness. That little minx. She knew I hated math. Knew it was my worst subject in school.
“Every time you get one wrong, you lose an article of clothing.” She sniffed. “Let’s begin.”
I raised my hand. I watched her lips battle against a smile.
“Yes, Boon?”
“What do I get if I get it right?” Why was I harder than a steel pylon right now?
“I’ll lose one article of clothing. My choice, of course.” She raised a challenging eyebrow.
I nodded that I understood.
“Nine times six.”
My brain froze for a second, but I was properly motivated. “Fifty-four.”
Shae kicked off a heel. Shit. I mean, I loved her bright-red-painted toenails, but I was hoping the shirt would have been first.
“Eight times seven,” Shae rapid-fired.
“Fifty-six!” Damn, I almost botched that one.
Shae kicked off her other shoe. She threw out four more questions and I answered them correctly.
She’d lost the skirt, showing off one of the pairs of panties I’d picked out for her.
Then her shirt was gone and my brain was officially fried.
She looked stunning in the lavender shelf bra, boobs perfectly pressed together.
“Eight times eight.”
“Ah, fuck,” I muttered, actually stumped. Who needed to know this shit when we all walked around with smartphones with built-in calculators? And how was I expected to know any math when Shae stood in front of me in lingerie?
“No cursing, Boon,” she tsked. “Apparently I need to keep your mouth busy so you don’t use words you shouldn’t.” She stepped forward, between my legs, tugged down one cup of her bra and shoved her breast in my face. “Suck until I tell you to speak.”
I bit back a groan, physically in pain considering I was still in restrictive jeans.
My mouth opened all too willingly and I sucked on her nipple, my eyes looking up at her for further instruction.
My tongue flicked the peaked tip repeatedly.
I saw the intake of air, the moment she needed to gather herself before continuing.
Her hands fumbled at my waistline, unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans.
“You still have to lose an article of clothing.”
I helped her, shoving the pants down my legs and kicking them off. Temporary relief for my dick, plus her breast still in my mouth made for a good time.
“Twelve times twelve.”
Fuck. We were still doing math. I raised my hand. She nodded her head regally, giving me permission to speak. I let her nipple slip out of my mouth just enough to utter a number that I was almost certain was wrong.
Her nose went in the air. “No. It’s one hundred forty-four. Lose the boxers.”