Sun leaned closer and let the barest hint of the scowl she’d been holding back float to the surface. “Oh, I insist.”
The sheepish air that came over Lottie’s entire demeanor spoke volumes as Sun depressed the talk button on her mic. Lottie was going to urgent care and she’d have every test known to man run on her before the day was done if Sun had anything to do with it. Or she could charge her with obstruction. So many choices, so few hours in the day.
The lights were out at the Freyr house, thus Sun headed straight for her own humble abode and the magnificent shower ensconced within. No need to wake Auri.
Thirty minutes later, squeaky clean and slightly annoyed that Carver had texted her yet again, she’d settled on her sofa in a knee-length nightshirt, beige slouch socks, and an overfilled glass of chardonnay. She opened her laptop to do some research on Keith Seabright when a knock sounded at the door. She froze. Surely he wouldn’t. Surely he didn’t know where she lived.
She took a huge gulp of wine, then stood and walked to the door, fully prepared to confront Carver and inform him that their one date was also going to be their only date. Honestly, the nerve of the guy.
She did a quick scan of the room. All of her strategically placed décor that served as lethal weapons should she or Auri ever need them were in place. A metal arrangement with razor-sharp, detachable leaves. An umbrella in a stand that harbored a short sword. A tissue box with a Taser underneath.
The first thing she did every time she entered the house was lock up her gun. The wall safe sat just inside the front door. Having seen too many crime scenes, she quickly entered the combination and let the door crack open on its hinges.
“It’s just me,” Quincy said outside the door. “No need to unlock the safe.”
She looked through the fish-eye lens at her bestie’s handsome face, then relocked the safe before opening the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Date night.”
She looked down at her oversized nightshirt and the thick knit socks bunched around her ankles. She’d pulled her wet hair into a ponytail and applied a mask that was, thankfully, invisible to the naked eye, besides giving her an unnatural shine. “So soon?”
“No time like the present.” He lifted a box of wine.
“I had no idea boxed wine was a real thing,” she lied, opening the door wider.
“Yeah, it’s all I had.” He’d showered, too. The scent of soap and warm cologne filled the air as he walked inside. “I prefer the term cardboardeaux.”
“Okay, then,” she said, fighting a grin and questioning their decision. Was this really happening? With her best friend? With Quincy? After closing the door, it hit her. What was really going on. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You just want to get laid.”
He put the wine on her snack bar and turned back to her. “Well, yeah.”
Fair enough. “Yeah, me too.” Sun walked to her still-full glass of wine and downed it in five massive gulps before coming up for air.
The edges of his mouth slid into a humorous smile. “Nervous?”
She coughed then walked up to him, holding the glass out for more. He refilled it before pouring himself one, and they went to town on a boxed red with subtle hints of fruit. Like, really subtle.
“Is that prunes?” she asked, smacking her lips.
He shrugged and downed another glass, apparently as nervous as she was. And they had to get back to work in ten hours.
The wine hit her instantly. She walked to the sofa and sat down before it and the world got pulled out from under her.
He joined her there.
“We need to set some ground rules,” she said, a strong buzz already taking hold.
“Agreed. You come first.”
She choked on the sip she’d been in the middle of taking and decided a slower approach to the wine thing would be best for all involved. “What? No. Why? What about you?”
“Honey, don’t worry about me. I can come inside of three seconds.”
“It takes a big man to admit that.”
He sobered and studied her, before admitting, “You aren’t like the other women in my life.”
“Inflatable?”
“They had their reasons for being with me. I just … I want this to be good for you.” His statement was almost sad.
“Okay.” Possibly more aroused than she cared to admit after seeing Levi, she sat her wine down and attacked. It had been a long time. A very, very, very long time.
He lifted her onto his lap and she draped her arms over his wide shoulders before reality sank in. Kissing him was about as stimulating as kissing the back of her own hand. She turned her head, and said, “Oh, my God, wait.”
“Okay,” he said from behind a trail of kisses from her mouth to her ear.
It was enough to make her forget where she put her senses again. To throw caution to the wind. For the protest that had formed on the tip of her tongue to vanish.
He stopped and licked his lips, his expression similar to when Sun ate Lemonheads. “What is on your face?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s a mask. You don’t want to lick that.”
Her mouth covered his again.
He was everything a girl could want. Insanely handsome. Amazing body. Fantastic personality. A girl would be crazy not to desire him, which had her questioning her sanity when she broke off the kiss again.
But she pulled back at the same time he did. They looked at each other, the hopelessness of the situation sinking in.
Then a thought hit her. “Maybe we need to be naked.”
“Of course!” He knocked a palm against his head. “That’s exactly what we need.”
They kissed all the way to her bedroom, ripping off clothes as they went, bumping into this table and that dresser. She may have heard a crash or two, but she couldn’t be certain. He broke off the kiss to lift his shirt over his head in that way men do and, admittedly, her knees weakened just a little. His pecs were the stuff of legend.
Before Sun knew it, her skin was brushing across his and he felt good. She had to admit it, and yet …
They stopped again, naked in each other’s arms, their breaths coming in short, agitated gulps.
The look in his eyes, although resigned, was filled with admiration. “You are so beautiful, Sunny.”
She ran her hands over his biceps. “So are you, handsome.” She gestured toward the bed. “How about we take a break.”
She crawled into bed as Quincy went to refill their glasses of prune-flavored wine. A part of her adored him even more now. And she didn’t doubt that another part of her did love him in that way. They’d just been friends for so long.
When he came back to the bedroom, he was wearing his underwear. Charcoal-gray boxer briefs. He handed her a glass, then slid his legs under the covers with her and leaned back against the headboard.
“Now we know,” he said, almost sadly.
“Now we know.” She ran her fingers along the rim of her glass. “Who are you trying to forget?”
“What?” he asked, coming out of a trance he’d been in.
“Who are you pining after?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Quincy.” She put a hand on his jaw and turned him toward her. “Of course it does. Is it Zee?”