20. Don’t Wake The Dormant Sex Monster
TWENTY
DON’T WAKE THE DORMANT SEX MONSTER
? So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings - Caroline Polachek
CLIO
The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I can’t see my feet.
Leaves crunch underfoot. My muscles sting from the overstuffed box of art supplies I pilfered from my preschool room this morning—although it’s not really theft if you paid for the supplies yourself.
I might’ve overcompensated, but I wasn’t sure how much we’d need.
Thanks to some jerk who decided to take up two parking spots, I had to park my car a block away from the apartment and walk all the way back with about fifteen pounds of fabric dye and a stack of white T-shirts.
“How many do we need to make?” I ask.
Lexi counts on her fingers, rattling off a list of names. “Twenty-four? No, wait. Twenty-five with Quinn.”
That’s right. I forgot Quinn took over as director for the musical theatre program this year. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a better person to do it. She has Broadway in her veins. Even her alarm clock plays Good Morning Baltimore.
As we approach the tattoo shop, Noah steps outside with Auggie.
“Perfect timing, Weston. I have a job for you.” I plop the box into his hands and shake out my arms. They feel like jelly and kind of floaty at the same time.
“Oof. What the hell is in here? More pennies?”
“Nope. I have to make twenty-five tie-dye shirts, and you just volunteered to help.”
“Like hell I did.”
“Come on, now, Sunshine. Any good fiancé would offer to help.”
He quirks a brow, giving me a crooked grin that does unholy things to my body.
We agreed it was a one-time thing, but if he keeps looking at me like that, I wouldn’t mind making it a two, or even three, or several hundred times thing.
Now that I know the heights Noah can make me soar to, I never want to come back down.
Unfortunately, my feet are firmly planted on the concrete for the moment.
“What’s that?” A curious voice brings me back down to earth as Auggie hops in place, seemingly trying to get a look inside the box, and an idea strikes me.
I bend down to his level, bracing my hands on my thighs. “Hey, Auggie. Would you like to help Cici and Lexi make tie-dye shirts?”
He widens his stance and throws his fist in the air like a superhero. “Yes!” He turns his gaze on Noah, popping out his bottom lip. “Please, Uncle Noah… Can we?”
I cross my arms and puff out my chest. “Now you can’t say no.”
“Jesus fuck,” Noah mutters. “That was a dirty trick, princess.”
I dust off my hands in a satisfied gesture. “Good. Now that we have that settled, follow me.”
Noah steps into my path, halting my progress. “Whoa whoa whoa. Back up. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it in public, and it counts as one of our outings.”
“Fine. Then you can carry the box back to my car.”
He glances up and down the block a few times. “Where did you park? Neverland?”
“It’s not my fault! Some asshole is taking up two spots.” I point to the large black SUV that fucked up my day. “See?”
“Teddy Fucking Sinclair.”
Sure enough, the vanity plate reads SNCLR1.
“Come on. We’ll take my truck instead.” He shifts the box into one arm, his muscles flexing with the change of position. Holy mother of… Have his biceps always been that huge?
He pulls the keys out of his pocket and tosses them in the air, catching them one-handed.
Why was that hot? It’s like a switch has flipped and now everything seems to trigger my sex drive.
I thought it was more of a use it or lose it situation, but I was so wrong.
As it turns out, it only takes one orgasm to awaken the dormant sex monster living inside of me—and she’s feral for Noah Weston.
Lexi helps Auggie into his car seat then squeezes in next to him. I take the front passenger seat as Noah slides in behind the wheel, having already set the box in the truck bed.
He drives us over to the park, pulling into the lot beside an empty pavilion with picnic tables. His eyes cut to me. “Stay there.”
“Wha—”
His door slams shut before I can get the words out, and he’s at my side, opening my door. My gaze Ping-Pongs between the man and his outstretched hand.
When I take too long to move, he says, “Well? Are you coming or not?”
Not. Definitely not, but give me about three minutes with those fingers…
I clear my throat and slide my palm into his. “Who are you, and what have you done with my asshole landlord?”
“Sorry, princess. No asshole landlord today. You’ll have to settle for doting fiancé.”
My stomach does a somersault for some reason—one I’m not about to examine too closely.
Lexi crouches low, and Auggie hops onto her back, wrapping his arms around her neck. She walks with an extra pep in her step, bouncing him as they head towards one of the tables.
Noah stops us briefly at the back of his truck and picks up the box one-handed, never letting go of mine, then we join Lexi and Auggie.
He sets the box of supplies on the table, and I pull out ten different dye colors, a large box of rubber bands, and the stacks of plain T-shirts, laying everything across the table in neat rows. “Ok. Noah, you’re on rubber band duty with Lexi. Auggie and I will handle the dyes.”
“Bossy,” Noah grumbles.
“I think you like it.”
He leans a little closer and speaks low for only me to hear. “You know I do, baby.”
Baby.
I never in a million years thought a single word could make my stomach flutter, but there’s a kaleidoscope of butterflies taking flight right this very second that would suggest otherwise.
“Since it’s Legally Blonde, do we want to do a bunch of pinks or change it up a bit? We could give the cast one color and crew another?”
Lexi picks up one light pink and one darker and sets them in front of me, then she picks up two shades of blue and sets them in front of Auggie. “Cast in pink, crew in blue, and Quinn can have a mix of both.”
“Perfect. Let’s get started.”
I pull out a couple of art smocks from my box and help Auggie into one.
“You really thought of everything,” Noah says.
“It’s the teacher in me. I’m always prepared for messes.”
As I’m reaching behind me to tie the belt at my back, his rough hands brush against mine.
“Let me,” Noah whispers against the shell of my ear, palming my hips.
My breath catches.
“People are watching. Pretend you actually like me.”
That’s the problem. I do like him. Too much.
Now all I’m thinking about are those inked hands and the things he can do with them.
This is bad. I thought walking away would put an end to these feelings, but nothing’s changed.
In fact, denying myself the one thing I want is only making this incessant attraction exponentially worse.
I always come prepared for messes, but this is one mess I hadn’t anticipated.
NOAH
When Clio walked out of my apartment the other night, I swore I was going to keep my hands off her.
We agreed it was a one-time thing, and I hadn’t imagined her panicked expression as she fled into the hallway.
Something about what we’d done scared her—I know because it scared me, too.
This connection isn’t a fleeting attraction; it could be so much more than that if we let it.
I can’t let it, so I watched her leave.
I managed to keep my promise for all of forty-eight hours until I saw Quinn at the coffee shop this morning, and she discreetly informed me that there’s a rumor going around that Clio and I are faking the whole thing.
I guess a few public outings a week and one slow dance at the festival weren’t convincing enough.
With Auggie finally settling into a routine, I can’t afford to rock the boat. The last thing we need is another visit from Charlene. She seems like a decent enough person, but I’d be thrilled to never see her again.
I let my hands linger on Clio’s hips after I finish tying the bow on the back of her apron. Ok. Fine. Maybe there’s a selfish part of me that wanted an excuse to touch her again. Sue me.
She tilts her head to look at me over her shoulder, mesmerizing me with long lashes outlining those sage green irises as they sparkle in the sunlight.
There’s something about the way she looks at me that drowns out the background noise, soothing years of turmoil with one glance while simultaneously robbing me of my ability to think clearly.
“We’re teaching the kids how to tie their shoes next week if you need a lesson,” she says, her lips tipping up at one corner.
My brow wrinkles in confusion.
“Can we get started now or?”
I clear my throat, taking a step back to shake myself out of my trance. “Right. Sorry. All good.”
Clio hands me the first T-shirt, and Lexi teaches me how to wrap them.
I have to redo it twice before I get it right, and eventually, we settle into a comfortable routine until my fingers are rubbed raw from the repetitive twisting and snapping of the rubber bands.
An hour later, the table is covered in two symmetrical lines of balled-up pink and blue fabric.
“Can we go play now?” Auggie whines.
I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. The kid has a short attention span, and repetitive tasks can get boring quickly. Something tells me he’d do just about anything to spend time with Clio and Lexi, including sitting still without complaint for a full hour.
Lexi helps him out of his smock and jerks her head in the direction of the playground. “Come on. I’ll race you to the swing set.”
Halfway there, Lexi slows, letting Auggie zip past her. Whirling around, he throws his arms in the air and does a dance like a football player after a touchdown. “I win, I win, I win!”
Clio’s laughter steals my attention, but her downturned smile betrays her outward amusement. “She would’ve been an incredible big sister.”
Acting on instinct, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her across the bench seat until her hip touches mine. She lays her head on my shoulder, her now-familiar scent drifting around us.
“Do you want more kids?” I ask, knowing damn well the answer shouldn’t mean anything to me.
“No. I think I might’ve at one time, but that ship sailed long ago. I sometimes wonder… but no. What about you? Looking forward to a bunch of little Noah’s running around someday?”
I choke on air. “No. I’m not cut out to be a dad.”
She looks up at me through thick lashes. There’s something earnest in her expression as she playfully nudges me with her shoulder. “I don’t know. You’re pretty great at the whole uncle slash guardian thing.”
My mouth tips into a smile. “Wow. Did it hurt to give me a compliment?”
She snickers. “A little, but I’ll live.”
We settle into a comfortable silence, watching Lexi push Auggie on the swings as he begs and pleads to go higher and faster. I can’t help but wish Jonah were here to see how happy his son is in spite of everything he’s been through, but then if Jonah were here, none of this would be happening.
Clio’s phone chimes with a text, and she picks it up off the table. While she’s distracted, I slip my hand into my pocket and drop a penny on the ground nearby.
I wait.
And wait.
But she doesn’t notice it.
Rubber soles squelch in the wet grass surrounding the pavilion, growing louder with each step. Following the sound, I catch sight of Coach Jeff over Clio’s head. He raises his hand with a cup of coffee clutched in his fist, waggling three fingers in a clumsy wave.
A memory flashes from the fundraiser—Jeff’s hands on her face, him leaning in close.
Her smile.
A stab of jealousy pierces me, and all rationality I might’ve had vanishes.
I press my fingers to the underside of her jaw, angling her face upward. A bewildered expression flickers across her features as my mouth descends, but the stunning vision is lost to darkness as my eyes drift shut.
She whimpers against my lips, her fingers twisting in the front of my shirt, as my tongue sweeps into her mouth, tasting and teasing in a way that’s far too indecent for public consumption.
I don’t care.
Whatever rumors were swirling about the truth of our relationship are about to be put to bed once and for all. This kiss is nothing short of a claiming. Deliberate. Measured.
And yet…
My control slips away with each passing second, the world around us dissolving as my senses home in on each point of contact: her hand on my chest, my palm cradling her jaw, our tongues licking and flicking, and her teeth raking against my bottom lip.
My cock hardens, and by some miracle, I summon the strength to pull away.
“What was that for?” she asks on a long-suffering sigh.
I study her flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, admiring the aftermath. As if they have a will of their own, my fingers coast down the side of her face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Can’t a man kiss his fiancée?”
She shoots me a withering look before cautiously sweeping the area, causing my hand to drop. Sometime between the decision to kiss her and the kiss itself, Jeff’s path diverted to a nearby park bench where he’s sipping his coffee. He doesn’t seem to have noticed or cared about the public display.
I can’t say the same for everyone else in the vicinity. We have at least six sets of eyes on us now, two belonging to Janet and Milton a few feet away, chattering in a hushed tone.
Clio’s head tips back and she nods once jerkily, her lips pursed to the side. “Ah. I get it.”
Is she… disappointed?
Seconds later, her smile is back in place like it never left, and she stands, carefully stacking the shirts back in the empty bin. “I should get these home. They have to dry for twenty-four hours before I can unwrap them.”
My hands curl into fists as I wrestle with my conscience. There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t have kissed her and only one reason I did it anyway.
I wanted to.
I could continue to lie to myself and say it was for the ruse, but what’s the point? In the end, it doesn’t matter what the reasoning was; it only matters that I can’t fucking do it again, no matter how much I want to bury myself inside of her and never let go.