Chapter 6

Gavin:

I unlock the apartment door carefully, torn between hoping Sam isn’t home and wanting her to be there. All day, I’ve been unable to get this girl out of my head. I made mistake after mistake in my distraction. At one point, one of my clients at the gym asked if I was feeling unwell.

Yes. I am feeling unwell. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I met Sam, and she’s already messing with my head. I wanted to be annoyed waking up to find her cat on my bed—I’m not a cat person—and having to clean up the egg mess after she botched breakfast. Having to share my bathroom counter space, which is in short supply on a good day, with all her girly hair and face products. And candles. Why does one person need so many candles?

But I’m not annoyed. I’m interested. Something about the way she smiles shyly when she knows she’s made a mistake, or that she tried to be thoughtful and make breakfast this morning. Or how, even after she burned herself, she was concerned with helping me clean up the mess. Not to mention how damn good she looks in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts, square my shoulders, and push the front door open. I drop my gym bag and kick my shoes off in the front hall, then drop my keys and the mail I grabbed from the mailbox downstairs onto the console table just inside the door. Voices drift my way from the living room, Rob’s first. Then Sam’s silky tone follows. I consider going in to say hello, but I’m gross and covered in layers of sweat after a full day of working on the gym floor.

As is my usual routine, I head straight for the bathroom for a shower. I stop outside the partially closed door and knock before pushing it open. I know I heard Sam in the living room, and the door wasn’t even fully closed just now, but I’m a little gun shy after last night. Make that a lot gun shy. I briefly consider showering at the gym before coming home from now on, but ew. I would probably just end up washing again when I got home to wash off whatever I might have picked up in the gym showers.

I turn on the bathroom light and shut myself in, turn on the water. I’m just about to strip when I remember that I’ll have to cross the hall in just my towel if I don’t go grab a change of clothes now. I rush to do so and am back into the bathroom before the water has even fully heated.

It’s not that I’m ashamed to walk around naked. There’s just something about walking around in front of my friend’s female cousin essentially naked that feels wrong. We’ve only been living together for a couple of months, but we’ve been friends since high school. He’s practically family by now. So what does that make her?

My brain cringes at the idea of considering her family. Maybe because I’m attracted to her in a way I would never admit to out loud. I choose not to dwell on it, strip down, and hop under the water, letting the spray loosen tense muscles and wash away the day.

When I’m finished and dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, I head for the kitchen. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and that was close to twelve hours ago. I don’t normally go this long without eating. It’s bad for the metabolism. But today, time got away from me.

Stepping into the kitchen, I look past the breakfast bar, into the living room. Rob is on the couch next to Sam, and we have company. Rob’s bandmates, Logan and Paul, are in the two armchairs on either side off the couch. They’re all focused intently on the TV that takes up most of the opposite wall. Beers, in varying states of empty, litter the end tables, and the coffee table has been pushed out of the center of the room, up against the TV stand.

“Hey,” I call as I move to the refrigerator and pull out the fixings for a sandwich.

A round of heys comes back to me.

“What’s up, man?” Rob calls. “Wanna play some golf with us?”

I shake my head and spread mayo on two pieces of bread. “I gotta get some food in my system before I do anything.”

He doesn’t respond, just goes back to watching the screen as Sam rises from the couch and moves to the center of the room. Tonight, she’s wearing what might be the world’s tightest tank top and smallest pair of denim shorts. Logan and Paul watch her with unconcealed interest as she bends slightly at the waist and holds a game controller like a pretend golf club. She does a pretty good job of mimicking a golfer’s stance, but when she swings, it’s so wide it’s almost comically bad.

Rob barks with laughter, obviously highly amused by her epically bad shot. Paul and Logan both chuckle, but it’s clear neither one of them gives a damn about her skills at virtual golf.

“Eighteen holes, and you’re not even remotely better than when you started,” Rob teases her.

To her credit, Sam blushes, clearly embarrassed, and shrugs before answering, “I think you got all the sports genes in the family. The only game I’ve ever been able to make contact with the ball in is dodgeball.”

“You do know you’re supposed to avoid the ball in dodgeball, right?” Rob takes a swig of his beer and claims the controller from her.

She laughs. “So, that’s what I was doing wrong.” Then she drops back down onto the couch and watches while he takes his turn. When he’s finished, it’s apparently the end of the game, and I’ve just finished making my sandwich. Since the seats in the living room are taken, I park on one of the bar stools but face away from the kitchen so I can join in the activity.

“What do y’all wanna play now?” Paul asks, holding up several game cases.

Rob shakes his head while tipping his beer back to finish it off. “Not me, man, sorry. I’ve got to be up for work at five. If I don’t hit the sack now, I’ll never make it out of bed that early.” He slaps hands with Logan on his way by, and shoots me a “Night, man,” as he heads toward the hall.

“Night,” I return.

“Hey, Robby,” Sam calls before he leaves the room. “Are you guys playing anywhere Friday night? The girls and I are going out, and I thought we’d come watch you play if you’ve got a gig.”

Logan and Paul both perk up and wait for Robby’s response. They’re visibly excited by the idea of Sam watching their band. I’m a little pleased myself, since I’ve already committed to coming to watch.

“Yeah, the Tea Garden. We go on at 8.”

“Awesome, we’ll be there!” she tells him.

“Cool,” he says and continues on his way. He stops before rounding the corner toward his bedroom and says, “And no one get any ideas about my cousin. She is off limits.” His tone is joking, but he pins each of us individually with a look that says he’d seriously kick our asses if we try anything with her.

Paul holds his hands up innocently.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Logan’s response is a blatant lie. He’d hit on his own mother if she wasn’t related to him. The guy’s never met a woman he hasn’t tried to talk the pants off.

I nod my acknowledgement to Rob and he nods back before leaving the room.

“We’re going to talk about how sexist that was tomorrow, Robby!” Sam calls after him, but his only response is the shutting of his bedroom door. She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. Which does nothing to minimize the appearance of her breasts in that tiny tank top. If anything, it pushes them higher, closer together. I groan inwardly. Off limits, I remind myself.

“So, what should we play now?” Logan asks. Paul holds up the game cases again, and they both wait eagerly for an answer. Apparently, neither one of them is ready for the night to end. They’re both like lovesick kids, hanging on Sam’s every movement, every word. A twinge of jealousy knots in the pit of my stomach, and I remind myself again that Sam is a no-go zone. Even if I was interested in pursuing something with her, which I’m not—I happen to enjoy being single, thank you very much—I’m not willing to mess up my friendship with Rob to do it.

“Maybe something that doesn’t involve balls,” Sam suggests, and I cough back a laugh. Does she even realize what she’s just said? Her expression is sweetness and innocence, and I could almost believe she has no clue. Until she looks over at me with a twinkle in her eyes. She knows exactly what she’s just insinuated. I swallow the last bite of my sandwich and chase it with a swig of beer, then get up to drop my plate in the sink.

“How about car racing?” Logan suggests.

“Perfect!” She smiles.

“You in, Moore?” Paul asks, addressing me by my last name as is his habit. He’s ex-military, and I guess old habits die hard.

“Sure.” I claim the seat Rob vacated on the couch a few minutes ago, and Logan tosses me a controller. Paul loads up the game, and we all settle in to wait for the flag to drop.

I’m in the lead from the start, and with good reason; this is my game. By the second of three laps, I’m so far in the lead, I’ve almost lapped the last car, an NPC.

“This is totally not fair,” Sam protests. “How are you so good at this?

“Practice,” I tell her and whip my virtual car around the next corner.

“Well, have you ever practiced with your eyes closed?”

“No.”

“That’s too bad,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because, if you had, you might still have a chance at winning even when I do this.” She jumps up from the couch and stands directly in front of me, blocking my view of the TV screen.

I laugh and lean over to see around her, but she sees the move and shifts in front of me again. I try the other way, but again, she blocks me. So, I do the only thing I can think of. I wrap my arms around her and pull her down so she’s stretched sideways across my lap. I lock my arms over her legs and use my elbow to keep her from sitting up fully.

She squeals and fights against my hold while still trying to keep her car on the track. My car is all over the place, but I’m still in the lead, and I tell her so.

“Not if I can help it,” she threatens and continues to buck and shift in my lap. And then it happens. Her ass brushes against me in just the right way to rev my engine. My cock goes from zero to fully erect in .6 seconds.

I do my best to fold in on myself, move my errant dick away from her hip, but it’s too late. She’s noticed. I can tell by the way she stops moving against me and takes her gaze off the screen to look at me in surprise.

Then she smiles wickedly and turns back to the screen. “Let’s see you catch up now, hotshot.”

I follow her gaze. Not only am I not in the lead anymore, but I’m in last place. My car is nose first in a barrier wall, and Paul has just passed me. No sooner do I get my car turned around than he crosses the finish line, followed closely by Logan. And I couldn’t care less. All I can think about now is the soft, warm body in my lap, the pressure of her hip brushing against me, the ache building in my balls.

I’m torn between wanting to throw her off my lap and wanting to keep her here indefinitely. It feels like forever later before she and I finally drive our respective cars across the finish line. My heart isn’t in the game anymore, but I kept up the show for Logan and Paul, not wanting to let on the fact that the only thing I’m interested in is right there in my lap.

“Race again?” Paul asks.

I shake my head and toss my controller onto the floor, loosen my hold on Sam. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

Sam sits up but doesn’t move to climb off me, which makes this so much more uncomfortable. “Yeah, me too, probably.”

Logan’s eyes narrow in our direction, and I have to fight the urge to throw up my hands to proclaim my innocence of whatever he’s suspecting. Instead, I lean back and cross my arms behind my head, un unspoken proclamation that I’m not involved with her decision to stay in my lap. Except that it places my still rock-hard erection against the soft flesh of her ass again. And damn if she doesn’t shift her weight in my lap, rubbing herself against me in a move that has to be 100 percent intentional. I fight the urge to close my eyes and groan, and instead do my best to pretend that nothing is happening below my waist.

“Alright, brother,” Paul says, grabbing an armload of beer bottles and heading for the kitchen. I can always count on Paul to help clean up after a game night. He drops the bottles in the recycling and heads for the front door. “See you at practice.”

“See ya, brother,” I answer.

Logan doesn’t bother to grab any bottles, just slips his bare feet into his sandals and stands, aims for the front door. “Later, man.” Then to Sam, he says, “It was nice to meet you, Sam.”

“You too, Logan,” she answers cheerfully.

Even after the front door shuts behind them, she doesn’t move off of me, and actually turns to face me.

“So, I see you like to play hard.” Her tone and expression are teasing, and she shifts slightly in my lap to emphasize her meaning. As if I couldn’t figure it out without her rubbing against my dick. I cough to cover a moan of pleasure.

I’ve got to shut this down. I’m way too turned on right now. If this goes any further, I’m going to blow right through Rob’s limits. I may even blow more than that. “I need to get to bed. Busy day tomorrow.” I can hear the lack of conviction in my own voice, and I can only hope she doesn’t hear it too.

“Oh. Okay.” Her expression sobers and she climbs slowly off me.

I adjust myself as casually as possible before I stand so I’m not pointing right at her in the most obscene way, but there’s really no casual way to shove a hand down one’s own pants and shift a raging boner into compliance. Her gaze dips below my belt once I’m on my feet, and the corners of her lips turn up. I follow her gaze, and realize that while I’m not pointing straight out, there’s still a sizeable ridge just under my waistband where the head of my dick rests against my lower stomach, stretching the elastic away from my body.

“Sweet dreams,” she says and then stands there waiting. Waiting for me to leave, maybe. Or make a move, possibly. I opt for the safe route and spin on my heels.

“Night,” I call over my shoulder and head to my room. Rob’s cousin, I think as I shut myself in my room. Off limits, I remind myself as I climb into bed. Never going to happen, I tell myself as I slide my hand into my waistband and wrap it around my dick.

But all I can think is, Sam, a couple moments later when I shoot my load. Yep, letting her stay here is turning out to be a huge mistake.