10. Leo
10
LEO
O live is the first woman I’ve taken to my little cottage off the beaten path. No one has captured my attention enough to care, especially since I don’t live here year-round.
“Holy cow! This is adorable,” Olive compliments. “It’s like a large she shed. And look at this little porch and the rocking chairs. I want one!”
“I hope it isn’t a mess, Leo,” Tonya warns. “No underwear lying around, dirty dishes in the sink…”
The cleaning crew came today. Everything sparkles. I don’t even know why Tonya’s with us right now. Strike that. Yes, I do. She’s nosy about me and Olive. Nothing to see here. Remembering my lips against hers and the surge of desire through my body tells a different story. It’s probably a good thing that Tonya interrupted us.
“Shouldn’t you be at the party keeping things in order?” I say to change the subject.
She props her hands on her hips and scoffs. “Are you challenging my party-planning abilities? Like all others, it’s a well-oiled machine. The guests are drinking and dancing at this point. But you’re right, we should get things moving.”
I unlock the door and push it open. “Ladies first.”
Olive enters and spins in the center of the room while unbuttoning her coat. Tonya and I follow her inside.
“Yep,” she crows. “I’m moving in tomorrow. Too bad your reservation system didn’t make a worse mistake. Don’t get me wrong. I love the suite, but this is incredible.”
The cottage has an open concept. The kitchen and living room run along the right wall. There’s enough space for a kitchen table for two, a couch, and a coffee table. Stairs near the spacious bathroom lead to a cozy loft where the bedroom is. It’s compact and airy; perfect for a getaway. I have all I need.
Olive’s coat slips from her shoulders and I take it from her, then hang it on a hook near the door. She’s wearing a fitted, white button-down shirt that fans out at the bottom over her blue jeans. The top three buttons are unfastened, giving me a glimpse of her full chest. With her hair twisted in a low bun on the side, her exposed neck makes me ache for one more trace of her silky skin. Her jeans hug her curvy hips and ass as if they were custom-made for her. To explore a woman’s generous curves is incredibly beautiful and the ultimate turn-on for me.
My eyes trail her every move until I’m rudely interrupted by Tonya clearing her throat. I glance at her, and she gives me a knowing nod. I scratch my forehead with my middle finger, and she laughs. Olive inspects the small kitchen area, tracing the black countertop with her fingertips. Next, she heads into the living room and sits on the couch like she belongs here. She perks up and points at the opposite wall. “And you have a fireplace. I’m so jealous. I didn’t need one when I lived in LA, and the apartment I live in now doesn’t have one.” Interesting piece of information. Several guests at the party are from LA.
I wait for Tonya to ask her a million questions about living there, but she doesn’t. I look behind me, and I’m not surprised to see her putting away the plate and glass that were sitting out to dry. She’s such a neat freak. You can eat off her counters and floors.
Once Olive finishes checking out the upstairs, which doesn’t take long because the house is small, I usher them into the bathroom. I’m glad it’s big enough for three.
I clap my hands. “Let’s get this show on the road. The party’s going to be over before we get back.”
“And look at this bathroom,” Olive says with delight when she enters. “The bathtub and shower are huge. How many people are supposed to use that shower at a time?” I’d tell her what I’d like to do with her in there, but I’m sure that’d win me a left hook to the face. Still, I can fantasize, right?
I put my shaving items and washcloth near the sink before I left. Tonya’s already rearranging and polishing my toiletries, lining them up from tallest to shortest. I don’t bother commenting anymore. If it makes her happy, why say anything?
“Need a hand?” Olive asks. “I kinda feel useless.”
“Have you ever shaved off a mustache? Did another fake boyfriend have one too?”
She swats my shoulder playfully. “Whatever. Actually, I do have some experience. I used to help my dad. He couldn’t decide. At random times during the year, he’d grow one. Mom hated it with a passion.” She says it as if it were in the past. Did her father die, or did her parents divorce?
“Go for it then.” I point to the things on the counter. “Are these what you need?”
She scrutinizes them. “Yep. We’re good to go.”
I could do it myself, but this might be the last time she puts her hands on me. I take my phone out of my pocket. “Let me get a before picture first.”
“Wait, I want to be in it,” Tonya exclaims, finished with her military lineup of toiletries.
She presses into my side, making kissy lips. I pull Olive into the picture. She hesitates, then gives in. I take a couple pics, then turn off the screen.
“Let me see them,” Tonya whines, yanking on my arm.
“Nope. Later.” I tap on my watch.
“How should we do this? You’re much taller than me,” Olive inquires. Without responding, I pick her up and sit her on the counter. She squeals. “I’m too heavy to sit here.” She shimmies to get off. I hold her in place and put my hands on the counter, barricading her in.
“ You are not .” Face-to-face, we stare at each other, hardly blinking. We’re close enough that I could easily steal a kiss from her, but I refrain like a gentleman. Her chest rises and falls at a faster pace as her eyes drop to my lips. Is this having the same enticing effect on her as it is on me? She swallows, then looks away.
I grab the used towel hanging to dry and place it over my shoulders. Then I push the loose strands of hair out of my face.
Olive takes my chin between her fingers and asks, “Are you sure? I’m a little rusty. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“No bleeding allowed. And you can’t use these white towels,” Tonya orders. I look over, and she’s refolding the freshly folded towels on the shelf. Whatever floats her boat.
“That’s what bleach is for,” I counter. I look at Olive. “Ignore Tonya. She’s like Monica on the TV show, Friends . Constantly organizing and cleaning.” I hide behind my hand and whisper, “She irons her towels and sheets. Probably her underwear too.”
“I heard that,” Tonya says over her shoulder.
Olive’s lips quirk with amusement. “Ah. One of those people, huh?”
“Heard that too,” Tonya says, cracking a smile this time.
“Want to come and organize my apartment?” Olive asks.
While Tonya babbles about turning it into a job, I fill the sink with hot water and wait until their chatter dies down.
“Hello. My ’stache is waiting to die.” I push out my furry upper lip to encourage attention. “Olive, I trust you, so…get movin’.” I place the clippers in her hand, and she gets down to business.
“Come a little closer,” she says, tugging on my shirt. I slide between her parted legs, placing my hands lightly on her lower thighs.
“This okay?” I ask softly, my gaze trained on hers, praying that it is.
Her fiery gaze travels down my arm to my hand. I give her thigh a gentle squeeze. When she looks up again, her pupils are dilated, and I’m sure mine reflect hers. “Yes,” she responds with a shaky breath. Will we be able to leave this bathroom without mauling each other?
Ignore the twitch in your pants. I force my mind to go blank when she starts trimming, trying to prevent my dick from getting hard. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman. Olive is different because I want more than sex.
She turns off the clippers a few minutes later, wipes the trimmed hair with a damp washcloth, and inspects her work. Nodding in approval, she says, “Not bad. Next step, shaving cream.” I watch her squirt a large blob of it in her hand. More than probably necessary. “Ready? It’s going to be cold.”
“Bring it on. I’m kind of warm anyway.” More like hot.
She nods and cautiously smears the cream over my upper lip. It’s refreshing. When she continues, I keep my eyes on her exquisite face and the glimmer in her eyes. A little crease forms between her eyebrows, and she nibbles on her lower lip in full concentration. Being this close to her, I notice a tiny crescent-shaped mark under her left eye. A scar maybe?
“I love the color of your eyes,” I murmur.
Her hand with the razor pauses. “We have something in common then. I love yours too.” She gives me a stern look. “Now no more talking or moving.”
Ignoring her, I ask, “And they’re not contacts?”
She swirls the razor in the hot water, then shakes it out. “I have my dad’s eyes. It’s my only similarity to him.” I press the part where my lip is bare, and it feels cool. “You’re fiddling,” she says. “Don’t touch. I don’t want to cut you.” I suppress my smile and happily follow her orders like a little dog.
Moments later, she places the razor on the counter and wipes my mouth with a corner of the towel that’s around my shoulders. I wiggle my lip. It feels weird and cold. Naked.
I inspect my face in the mirror over her shoulder until she cups my cheeks and looks me directly in the eyes, all joking set aside.
“Don’t hide yourself behind facial hair again.” The words flow from her lips as she gently swipes my upper lip with her thumb. Did she miss some whipped cream? Oops, I mean shaving cream. My thoughts are in the gutter.
“Why?” My voice is raspy.
Her hands drop from my face, then cover mine, which are still on her thighs. “Because the world deserves to see all of you. So handsome. And when you smile…you take breathtaking to a whole new level.”
Whoa. I’m rendered speechless. Not a simple thing to do. Nobody has ever spoken to me that way. I squeeze her thighs gently again and relish the warmth her words have created in my heart.
I squint. “Is that my fake girlfriend talking, or just you?”
She nods toward the door. “Your fake one is outside smoking a cigarette. I am the only one in this bathroom with you.” The corners of her lips curve upward.
The urge to kiss her is worse than before. Not a fake kiss and not an innocent peck on the lips either. A powerful one where I can taste her on my tongue for hours. I want to hold her voluptuous body in my arms and make fucking sure that no other man compares. It almost happened at the strike of twelve.
I know I’m getting way ahead of myself, but I feel it in my bones. Olive’s special, and for once, I don’t want to walk away. My gut says I need to take it slow, though. There’s something fragile about her. I can’t forget that she came here to deal with some personal issues. Mixing in romance might not be what she wants or needs. I’ll follow her lead. Anyway, I kind of like this push-pull attraction.
I step back reluctantly, giving her space. She slides off the counter and drains the sink. I wipe it down when it’s empty and clean up the counter.
“Good job,” I remark, gently spreading a drop of lotion over the freshly shaven area. “I forgot what my upper lip looked like.”
She pokes my side with her finger. “See what I’m saying? Whole new level.”
I turn my face back and forth in the mirror. “Hmm. Are we talking sexy or more like hot tamale?” I joke with her reflection, moving my hips like Magic Mike would. Chills run up and down my spine. Where the hell did that come from? I haven’t danced since Corey got sick. Mind blown . Shake it off and analyze it later.
“White hot. Smoldering. Ten out of ten,” she flirts, flashing ten with her hands. “You better keep an eye out for Bethany. She might attack you on the dance floor.”
“Only my gorgeous, fake girlfriend is allowed to do that.” I move closer, seducing her with my dance moves.
Olive yelps, then runs out of the bathroom. I zone in on her bouncing, gorgeous ass. Did I mention how much I love her curves? Oh. Yeah. Sorry.
“Really? And what else is a fake girlfriend allowed to do?” she questions over her shoulder, catching me red-handed, admiring her ass.
My gaze drifts to hers. “Let’s make a list as we go to the party. It’s getting late. Almost to the point of why bother, but I promised you a good time. I hope you aren’t too tired.”
“If I slow down, I will be. Can you give me a sec? I’d like to freshen up if that’s okay.”
“Good idea. I want to change since I kneeled in the grass. I’ll do that while you’re in the bathroom.”
I step off the bottom stair just as she’s coming out. She looks exactly the same because she didn’t need to freshen up. I’ll always think she looks perfect. I head to the bathroom and redo my hair, this time pulling it all up. Next comes a fresh spray of cologne and a quick gargle of mouthwash. I look at my reflection and see a different me. People might think I’m crazy for saying that, but they don’t know how much I’ve been holding back. Sometimes I’ve almost felt like I’m cursed. Well, if I am, maybe she’s the one who’ll break it.
My phone pings in my pocket. I pull it out and read it. It’s Ellie, wondering where I am. I step out of the bathroom and finally realize something. “Where the hell is Tonya?”
“Didn’t you hear her? She got a text and needed to go back to the party.”
“That’s crazy. You had me in some kind of trance, you beautiful mustache shaver.” Only a couple hours with her, and she’s all I see and hear.
“It’s my magical fingers.” She wiggles them playfully.
I slide the coat up her arms and over her shoulders, then grab mine. “You’re trouble, aren’t you? I’m not believing this innocent, antisocial act anymore.”
“As a fake girlfriend, I can be whoever I want.” Her eyes sparkle mischievously.
“Well, time’s a-wastin’. Let’s go play pretend and see what kind of trouble we can get into.”
Little by little, she’s bringing me back.