Page 31

Chapter 31

Harlow

I don’t see the news at first.

Of course I don’t, I barely ever have my television on—and why would I? Andy is here, and he’s good company.

Very, very good company . . .

The kind of company who gives me orgasms and massages, who promises to feed me afterward. Sex and food = a fabulous combination and the perfect distraction from all the work I’ve been doing building this dating app.

“Know what sounds nice?” Andy yawns beside me, spent and exhausted from another hot, sweaty session.

“Hmm?”

“A shower.” He trails his finger up my stomach, starting at my belly button and ending at the pulse in my throat. It’s such an erotic tease that goose bumps cover my flesh. “At this point, I’m starting to grow mold.”

“You’re not gross.” The sweat on his chest is sexy.

“I don’t know about that.” He looks over at me across the pillow. “Want to join me?”

“Sure, why not?” My head gives a small shake. “Give me a few minutes. I do want to wash up.”

I yawn, stretching lazily.

“While we’re in the shower, maybe we can go for round three.”

My brows shoot up.

A third round? Is he insane? I won’t be able to walk as it is. Twice in one day already had me doing congratulatory laps around the house.

Is it tacky that I want to brag about it to my friends? None of them can brag that they banged a world-class athlete twice in one day.

“We’ll see about that.” I yawn again. “But I’ll be right behind you.”

I’m lying on my stomach when he rolls off the bed, slapping me on the ass before leaning over and planting a kiss on my mouth—and an ass cheek—then heading to the small bathroom located off my bedroom.

I ogle his naked body.

Bracing myself on one elbow so I can watch his retreat, my eyes scan the bare flesh he presents me with—the firm squatter’s ass. The thick thighs. The angel kisses.

I appreciate how firm he is everywhere .

His broad shoulders. The defined muscles of his deltoids. My gaze skims Andy’s body.

How did it not occur to me that he might be an athlete the first time we were in bed together? Seriously. Was I not paying attention? This man is so fine—like a Greek sculpture, he looks carved out of marble.

My mouth is practically watering.

Maybe I do want that third round after all.

I flop back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling for a few moments, listening as he fumbles around with the shower handles—no doubt trying to figure out how to turn on the hot water—then listen as the water begins its rhythmic beat against the white ceramic tiles.

I hear him step inside, his feet squeaking on the shower pan.

I smile, burrowing in my down comforter for several seconds. Then, after lying here too long, I throw the covers off, dropping my legs over the edge of the mattress, feet touching the carpet.

I stretch my arms over my head. Turn to the left. Turn to the right.

“Ahh.” Life is good.

Then, just as I’m about to stand, the phone on the bedside table begins vibrating violently, the FaceTime lighting it up, and a familiar face I’ve never met—but have seen on magazine covers—fills the small screen.

My heart stops.

Palpitates.

Andy’s phone is ringing, and it’s Paisley Blue who’s calling.

I stare at it while it vibrates, horror filling my gut.

Why is she calling? What possible reason could she have?

Unless . . .

Oh my God , have they been in contact the entire time he and I have been talking?

Shit, shit, shit! What if they are? Were? What if ...

I gawk at the phone as it rings and buzzes, loud reverberations that echo against the tabletop, Paisley’s gorgeous model face beaming from an image of her in the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, angel wings spanning out around her as she struts in underwear.

I look over at the navy blue granny panties that were tossed on the floor earlier by Andy; my sensible cotton briefs have never felt so uncool and unsexy.

Granny panties, Harlow? Seriously?

But anyway, back to the phone. Why in the world would Paisley be calling Andy?

Was I nothing but a fling? A boredom buster? A ... a ... what do they call that, when you break up with someone or they break up with you and you immediately date someone else?

A Rebound !

Is that what this is?

I’m working at not being an insecure asshole, but Rome wasn’t built in a day—and he told me before we had sex that they didn’t speak.

So why is she calling? It feels too coincidental.

It has my mind whirling.

It’s also too much for my nerves to handle at the moment! Way too much for me to handle, and suddenly, I want my dad! He’ll know what to do. He’ll know what to say—he always does.

Andy’s phone stops buzzing but not for long. Several seconds later, Paisley tries calling again. Back-to-back phone calls? Really? Calm down, honey; he’s in the shower, and guess what?

You can have him!

Sobbing, I cross the carpet and bend, picking through the clothes on the floor, and scoop up my pants, panties, and shirt.

Whatever excuse he’s going to have for her calling, I do not want to hear it.

Not yet.

Not right now.

I need to think.

And I cannot do that here.