Chapter 24
PETAL
He comes out minutes later, barefoot, in sweatpants and a long sleeve T-shirt, both of which cling nicely to the contours of his physique.
My heart starts to race, which is really stupid, because he’s just wearing normal, everyday clothes that men everywhere relax at home in. But the truth is, I’ve never been around someone as buff as he is.
Or as goddamn gorgeous. Even the bump on his nose adds to his beauty.
Don’t stare. Don’t. Stare.
I grab the bottle and two wine glasses, and plop my ass on the sofa, trying my hardest to play it cool. If worse comes to worst, I guess, I can always fake a headache and run off to bed early.
I pick up the TV remote and blast through the variety of channels, not able to focus long enough to make a choice.
I’m giving away my nervousness. I know I am.
“Food will be here in ten minutes,” he says, taking the glass of wine I poured for him. “Hey. Here’s to us. And our marriage.”
I turn to look at him, which I really don’t need to do, that’s how close he’s sitting next to me, and clink my glass with his. “Yes. Here’s to marriage.”
He laughs and puts his hand out for the remote.
“Oh. You’re one of those guys,” I say, moving the remote to my other hand, the one that’s farthest from him.
He wrinkles his nose. “What kind of guy? What do you mean?”
I continue clicking the channels, now pretty much just to annoy him. “You know. The kind of guy who always has to be in charge of the remote.”
I finally find the Hallmark channel, and pull up a small-town romance, something about a doctor and nurse who can’t stand each other, who have to work together.
“Oh my God. Forced proximity.” I tuck the remote under my leg so he can’t get to it, and settle in.
“What? What the hell is forced proximity?” he asks.
I sigh deeply and put the show on pause, even though they’re still just doing the opening credits. “It’s a story about two people who are stuck together, who’d rather not be, and how they… figure things out.”
He leans forward on the sofa, forcing me to look at him.
“And… that’s a thing? Like, that’s popular?”
I turn the show back on and crank up the volume. Horrible intro music plays. Not that I let that stop me.
I nod. “Oh yes. Among romance stories, that’s one of the most popular types.”
The movie starts and I’m still looking at him. I don’t want to, but it’s like my eyeballs won’t obey my brain and move back to the TV where they belong.
“What are the other types of romance stories?” he asks.
I put the show on pause again. At the rate we’re going, it will take hours to get through the movie. Which is kind of my plan.
“There are so many. Age gap, grumpy boss, secret baby.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. Luckily the intercom from the lobby rings and he gets up for the food. “I’ve never heard of any of that before. But you’re the expert, so I’ll take your word for it.”
I pull my credit card out of my pocket. “Here. Let me get this,” I say, running for the door.
He raises his hands. “No, this is on me. Everything’s on me. You are doing me a huge favor.”
I stand in front of him, hands on hips. “All right. Whatever. But I want you to know, you’re not my sugar daddy. I don’t need your money. Remember, I’m not one of your hoochie mamas.”
He rolls his eyes. “Would you please stop saying that? Yes, there’ve been women before you, hard as that is to believe. But I really don’t think they all deserve to be called hoochie mamas.”
I shrug, watching him enter the elevator. “Fine. Whatever. Just as long as you remember I’m not one of your hoochie mamas.”
His face pinches and he shakes his head at me while the elevator doors close to take him down to the lobby.
I don’t know why I enjoy irritating him so much. I should stop or at least cool it a little. But I can’t seem to help myself.
I pull some dishes and silverware out and set them up on the coffee table so I can continue to watch my Hallmark movie. I expect he’ll bail on the movie at some point. But maybe he won’t.
Got to give a guy credit for that.
In minutes, he returns with two huge bags of food.
“My God, what have you done? Are you inviting the whole team over?”
He sets everything down in front of me and removes the food cartons, one by one. “You didn’t tell me what to order, so I just picked a whole bunch of things. Hopefully you’ll find something you like.”
We fill our plates to overflowing and sit back, stuffing our faces. I turn the movie back on, and I have to say, Rake seems kind of into it.
“Excuse me for a sec,” I say, and put the movie on hold for a restroom break.
After I do my thing and am washing my hands, I look in the bathroom mirror. The eyeliner and mascara I put on earlier still look okay—not smudged or anything—so I swipe on some tinted lip balm even though I’m still eating.
When Rake was critiquing my fashion sense, I half expected him to comment on the fact that I’m wearing makeup, when I pretty much never do. But he either didn’t notice or was smart enough to not bring it up.
I was ready, however, to explain to him that I knew people would be looking at me today, and that the stadium light is probably harsh, so I didn’t want to look washed out.
Just as long as he knows I wasn’t trying to look nicer for him.
Really. I wasn’t. It’s true.
I stroll back to the living room, and find my show is gone. One of the Lethal Weapon movies has replaced it.
I hate the Lethal Weapon movies.
I take my seat on the sofa. “Um, Rake?”
“Yes, Petal?”
“What happened to my movie?” I ask.
He waves his hand around so I can see his fingers tightly wrapped around the remote. “Oh. It ended.”
I take a deep breath. Big guy wants to play.
“It was not over, Rake. I can’t believe you turned on one of these stupid Mel Gibson movies. He’s such a dork. In the history of bad, dumb movies, Lethal Weapon wins the prize.”
He just turns it up louder.
“C’mon, Rake. I was really enjoying my Hallmark movie.”
He ignores me and takes a forkful of his Indian food. “Wow, this stuff is good.”
I decide to go for it. I lunge across him, aiming for the very hand he’s got the remote in. But, damn him, he holds it out of my reach.
That doesn’t stop me. I scramble across his lap, probably kneeing him in the balls several times, and throw myself after it.
Still no luck.
“Jesus Christ, woman,” he cries. “I had no idea how vicious you were.”
I’m swiping at his arm, trying to pull the remote closer. “Give me that thing, dammit. Or I’ll go in my bedroom and watch TV alone.”
“Go ahead. There’s no TV in the guest room. I guess you could watch it on your phone. But that would kind of suck, right?”
Oh, the nerve.
That’s when I lose my balance, falling across his lap with my ass up in the air. I start to push myself up, when I realize I can’t.
He’s pinned me in place, one arm over my back and the other across my legs. I twist and writhe but can’t get any leverage. Not that I’d be able to do much against his brawny muscles, anyway.
“Let me up,” I shriek.
“I just love this movie,” he says, making no move to release me.
“Arghhh!” I yell. “Rake, so help me. You’d better let me up. Don’t forget, I have a belly full of Indian food. I’d hate to puke it up all over your fancy sofa.”
“Don’t worry. It’s all replaceable.”
That’s when I really shriek. “Gross! You’re a pervert! You’re getting a boner!”
It’s pressing right into my stomach.
“I’m the perv? You’re the one who threw herself clear across me like you were trying to get a cheap feel. And what do you expect. You rub your hot little body into mine, of course I’m gonna get a hard-on. Don’t you know anything about male anatomy?”
He is so gonna get it.
“I did not throw myself on you,” I insist. “I just wanted the remote. You’re the one who can’t control his male genitalia.”
He laughs at something Danny Glover says. “That’s right, Murtaugh, you tell ‘em.”
Rake’s penis is getting bigger and is now pressing into me hard. “Who’s Murtaugh? And when are you letting me up? I… I have to pee.”
“You just did pee. Murtaugh is one of the stars. If you were on board with popular culture, you might know that. Anyway, I’m thinking about letting you up. But this is kind of fun, having you sprawled out across my lap.”
Such. An. Asshole.
“Hold still, Petal. You are just making it worse.”
Jesus. How can it get worse, pinned by a fake husband, whose huge dick is pressing right into my stomach?
But I hold still for him. I’m not above bargaining.
“That’s better,” he croons.
And then he runs his hand over my ass.
“Hey, I didn’t give you carte blanche to touch my butt, Mr. Puck Head,” I say.
That doesn’t stop him. He just keeps doing it.
And you know what? It feels nice. Very nice. Soothing. Calming. Sexy.
He keeps rubbing my ass and laughing at the movie playing. “You’re much quieter now, Petal.”
“I… I just keep hoping your hard-on will go away.”
He sighs. “I do too, but I’m not sure it will.”
Suddenly, the arms holding me down are gone. “Here you go. You can take off now if you want to.”
I push myself up and off him as fast as I can, so fast that I stumble and fall back onto to coffee table and right into the Indian food.
“Goddammit!” I yell. “Look what you made me do.” I push myself up, grabbing at the takeout napkins to get chicken vindaloo off my ass.
A quick glance at Rake’s lap shows he still has his stiffy.
“Oh man, this is gross. This is the only pair of jeans I have with me.”
Rake holds his hands out. “Take them off. I’ll put them in the wash. They’ll be ready when you leave for work in the morning.”
Like right here? Right now?
I don’t say this out loud. I just wonder it. But I guess it’s written all over my face, because Rake presses his lips together.
“Yes, take them off here so you don’t get this stuff all over the living room. Look, I’m not going to lose my mind at seeing you in what I’m pretty sure will be granny panties, hopefully without any holes. So relax, okay?”
“Yeah, well, I do not wear granny panties, and you still have a hard-on.”
“So what? Men get hard-ons all the time. It’s natural when an attractive woman is rubbing herself all over you.”
He thinks I’m attractive?
“I was not rubbing myself on you. But whatever.” I unzip my jeans and slide them down my hips.
Rake bends to help me step out of them, probably to keep the mess to a minimum, when he looks right at my crotch. “Not bad. The hearts are cute.”
I put one hand right in front of my goodies, which I never gave him permission to look at anyway, and put the other on his shoulder while he helps me.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, balling up my dirty pants, and adjusting his package. “Jesus. Calm down, will you?”
He reaches onto the back of the sofa and tosses a fluffy blanket my way. “Here. You can cover up with this.”
While he’s putting my jeans in the wash, I have a few more bites of my dinner, which is cold now, but I don’t care. I love Indian food any way it comes and won’t complain if it’s not piping hot.
Then, I spot the remote.
Victory.
I turn back to my Hallmark movie. The doctor and nurse have their first kiss, and for a moment, all is right in the world.
“I knew it. I knew I should have taken the remote with me,” he says when he returns to the living room.
I shrug. “Sorry. Lethal Weapon ended.”
Resigned, he settles in next to me and we watch my movie without talking. After a few minutes, his hand wanders over and takes mine.
I can’t resist. “Hunky hockey player wants to hold my hand,” I say in a sing-song voice.
“You have a problem with that?”
I think about it. “No. Guess not.”
The movie ambles on, and while I try to focus on the couple who each start to realize the other isn’t so bad, all I can do is think about Rake’s huge, warm hand on mine, and how he smells like Dial soap.
I love Dial soap.
“Rake?” I say in a small voice.
“Petal?” he answers. He does not turn from the TV.
I keep my gaze fixed on it as well. If he’s going to shut me down, I don’t want him to see my face. “I liked your hand on my butt. If you ever want to do it again…”
He shrugs. “I probably won’t. But thank you for the offer.”
My mouth drops open, totally not expecting an insult, and just as I’m mustering up some snappy, brilliant comeback, he beats me to it.
In an instant, he turns to me, placing a hand on either side of my face. “I know you liked it, even if you didn’t have a giant erection like I did, announcing it for the whole world to see. And I think you’re going to like this too.”
He pulls me to him and lays a hot, juicy kiss right on my lips.
He’s right. I do like it.