Bliss Series Boxed Set: The Whole Damn Harem (98 page)

“Totally did.” He wears a huge knowing smirk on his face. Damn him and his sexy smirk. I swear he’s the king of smirks. He would ace a Smirking While Looking Sexy class, probably double majoring in Dropping Panties 101. “So are you going to tell me your other ones now?”

“Well as previously mentioned, I
do
eat more chocolate than my doctor would probably recommend.”

“If I was your doctor, I’d prescribe ways to work it off. It’s an easy fix and much more fun.” His mouth is close to my ear now. I’m beginning to wonder how he’s still able to succeed in putting one foot in front of the other when I’m struggling not to fall flat on my face. “Besides, I’ve studied your ass on a number of occasions and I’d say you’re doing just
fine.”

Friends.
Just
friends.

I’m quiet for a moment, my mind racing at the direction of this conversation. It’s going ‘down under’ and I’m wondering how deep I should go with these confessions. Then I figure, why the fuck not? What have I got to lose, other than my dignity, any respect he might have for me, oh—and the illusion that I’m a good girl?
But who cares about that anyway?

“You really want to know my vices?” I ask, my voice breathy, and not just from the running.

“Definitely.” His voice is low and guttural, just how you’d imagine him growling in your ear while taking you hard.
Or something like that
.

“Okay then. My vices, in no particular order. Fast cars. Whiskey. Porn and sex.” I speed up a bit, distracting myself from the groan I hear from my impromptu running partner.

“You’re not going to make it easy for me, are you?”

I shake my head but say nothing, a sly grin on my face saying it all. This conversation is too good to stop now.

“I told Daniel I’d be good and just be friends with you. Our group is incestuous enough but Jesus, woman, you just told a man like me that you like cars, whiskey, porn and sex, and you don’t expect me to have a mental image of you bent over the hood of a Charger while I lick whiskey off your naked body?”

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, turning away to stop myself from saying—or doing—something I would most probably regret later.

“My thoughts exactly. So let’s go back to safer topics while my cock gets the message that it’s not getting to play today.”

Okay so that was funny. So funny I start giggling like an idiot.

“Glad you find it funny. You should try running with a hard-on,” he grumbles, which just makes me laugh harder.
Don’t look down, Zo. Even if you want to.

Urgent change of topic needed. “Are you invited to the joint bachelor/bachelorette party next weekend?”

“Amazingly yes. I’d thought for sure Zander would’ve hunted me down by now.”

“I would’ve kicked his ass before I let him do that. And he knows it.”

“I get it, you know. You’re his baby sister. He’s been the man of the house for a long time. He’s just looking out for you.”

“And he thinks you’re bad for me? He couldn’t protect me from Justin, so fuck knows why he thinks he should step in now.”

“Justin?”

We approach a park bench and I decide it’s the perfect place to stop, leaning my hands on the back of the seat to stretch my hamstrings. Noah copies me, pulling his leg up to rest on the seat, inadvertently drawing my attention to his calves, his thighs, his . . .”Who’s Justin?” he asks again, that deep voice of his distracting me once again.

“My ex. He got a bit . . . attached, you could say.”

“Why did you need protecting from him? Did he hurt you?”

“No, he just wouldn’t accept it was over. He’s harmless, but he freaked me out enough that I moved here. It was better for everyone to get some space between us.”

“Has he bothered you since you arrived?”

I hesitate, wondering whether he’ll go straight to Zander and tell him. “A few texts, calls, the normal stuff. I’ve just decided not to engage with him. He’ll get over it.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

I stand up straight and face him. He’s wearing a deep frown, and his eyes are full of some indescribable emotion.

“I live with a cop. He won’t try anything again.” There’s a flash of anger in Noah’s eyes when I say that. I just hope he doesn’t probe any further. I don’t want to talk about Justin, ’cause talking about him is akin to acknowledging the inconvenience he’s becoming in my life. I’m happy in my denial bubble because inside of this orb, nothing can touch me.
That’s what I keep telling myself anyway.

He puts his hands on my shoulders, ducking his head down to look at me. “You’ll let me know if you need help, right?”

“Noah, it’s nothing. I can—”

“No, if he turns up or it escalates, you tell me and I’ll deal with it.”

He’s touching me, and right now I’d agree to anything he says so I nod and I blink away that annoying sting in my eyes that tries to take hold.

“Right then. I’ve finished my warm-up. Are you ready for another five miles now?” He starts running and looks over his shoulder at me. “Come on, slow poke. I’m making you look bad.”

Oh shit, this man wants to kill me by running me ragged.

I bite my tongue, stopping myself from blurting out that there are much more enjoyable ways to die. I just focus on the reward I plan on giving myself when I get home. ’Cause God knows I’ll have enough inspiration.

∞
∞
∞

Noah

I’m knee-deep in chart hell when a friendly face pops through the doorway. “Fancy finding you here.”

My whole body seems to relax the moment I see her. Something happened during our run yesterday. I can’t even pinpoint when it happened, all I know is the loose hold I had on my restraint when it comes to her has been well and truly lost now. I also think that any resolution she had to keep me at arm’s length took a beating as well.

“We really should stop meeting like this. People might start to talk about the friendly MRI staff making house calls,” I tease.

“You wish,” she replies with a wide smile.

Zoe Roberts is even better than I could’ve wanted. She’s friendly and funny, gives you all her attention when she’s with you, and she’s fucking gorgeous to boot. Her brown hair shines in the light in such a way it almost glimmers and her blue eyes are so deep, I’ve struggled many a time not to get lost in them. She may be six years younger than me, but she’s so damn smart that she gives me a run for my money every time I try any kind of cocky shit on her. She gives it back to me as good as she gets.

She’s perfect for me in every way. She just won’t admit it yet. My eyes drop to her sneaker-clad feet and roam up her bare long-as-hell legs. Those are legs every single male imagines having draped over his shoulders or around his waist, or spread wide on every available surface. I’m not fussed either way. She’s wearing a fitted blue knee-length skirt that has me picturing all the ways I could strip her out of it. Quickly skimming over her white polo shirt, as always my eyes get stuck on perfect breasts I’ve admired from afar for far too long.

I put my pen down and lean back in my chair. “Well I kind of do, but that’s a whole other story. How’s your day going?”

“Good,” she says as she steps into the room, notably leaving the door still open. “How are your legs after the other day?”

You’d think she just asked me how last night’s jerk-off session was with the way my body’s acting. Just seeing her has my cock’s attention. “They weren’t too bad. We kind of pushed each other a bit far.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “You think? I haven’t been worked that hard in years. Talk about a good distraction.”

She looks at me and starts blushing. Obviously, because I’m the man I am, my mind goes straight there and focuses on all the ways I could work her hard and how much fun it would be doing it . . .

“So I was thinking about what we talked about the other day concerning She Who Can’t Be Named. Maybe not sleeping with anyone for a while might be exactly what you need. No sex. No random hook-ups.” Her face is dead serious but I can see her cheeks flush again, and I don’t even try to hide a huge grin. Something about hearing the word
sex
come from a beautiful woman’s lips does things to a man. “I don’t think fucking your life away will make you feel any better. Maybe you just need time to, you know,
not
fuck.”

“Say that word again.”

“What word?” she asks, looking adorably lost.

“Well, hearing you say sex was hot, but hearing you say fucking was a hell of a lot better. So how about you say ‘sex and fucking’ in the same breath, and really finish me off.”

“You’re such a dirty perv.” Her lips twitch as she struggles to hold off a grin.

“Keep talking, Zo. I’m almost there.”

“Oh stop!”

“You love it.” I grin back at her.

She looks at the ground and I can see her trying to keep a straight face but she fails dismally, unable to hold back a smile.

“See? Told you. You can’t resist my charm.”

“You’ve got me. It’s just too much for me, Dr. Taylor. I’m starting to feel faint just being in your presence.” She’s totally making fun of my reputation but I soon join her when she starts laughing again. “Anyway, I must get back to it. Keep smiling, Noah. It keeps the panties loose, I hear.” With a wink and a nod, she disappears out of sight and leaves me shaking my head. But at least no one can see the stupid goofy grin I have on my face.

That woman is one of a kind. She reminds me of Mac in a lot of ways, but to me she’s in a whole league of her own. A challenge, an enigma, and a treasure to be savored in a five-foot-ten package that makes my mouth water, my heart beat faster, and my dicker harder than it’s been before.

Fuck resisting the pull of Zoe Roberts.

Zander may kill me but I’d rather take a chance or die trying—a distinct possibility when trying to win over a protective cop’s younger sister.

She’s worth it though.

My phone chirps with a text, and all I see are two words.

Zoe:
Sex and fucking. My two favorite words ;)

Oh yeah, totally fucking worth it.

“Want to Want Me”

Zoe

I’m starting to think I should’ve changed my number. Justin calls at least once a day and the texts, oh my god, the texts are getting out of control. I’ve even started leaving my phone on silent just so I can ignore it. I’ve changed my number twice in two months, the last time being just before I moved here. Somehow he always gets the new one.

Would be a lot easier if I didn’t keep sneaking looks at it in the hope Noah would send me a text. But it doesn’t happen.

It doesn’t mean I haven’t replayed the scene in the park over and over again in my head. Him imagining me on the front of a hot car naked while he licks whiskey off me is up there with the hottest fantasy I’ve ever heard of, and was definitely on the highlight reel when I got home, stripped off and dealt with myself with the ol’ one finger bean bang.

Now I’m wearing what I call my ‘fuck me’ dress. I don’t actually want to get laid tonight; I just want to look like I do. Yes, that sounds weird, and I know it’s probably the last thing I need right now, but tonight I want to look hot. Sue me.

And just because Noah Taylor, superstar of my spank bank, is going to be there doesn’t mean anything.

Keep telling yourself that, Zo.

When Kate and I went shopping this morning,
this
was the kind of dress I had wanted to find—a black mini dress that comes down to probably a hand-width below my ass with a chiffon overlay over the torso, giving off a peek-a-boo vibe that suits my mood to a tee. This dress is a sex-on-legs dress—it certainly shows a
whole
lot of leg, and almost shows my lady business. But since I won’t be throwing my legs up in the air or dancing on any tables, I think my dignity—albeit barely—will remain intact.

I’m adding one last coat of mascara when Kate walks into my room and takes me in. “Jesus, that dress would lead a priest to sin. That is
hot!
”

That makes me snort. “It’s no different from when I tried it on in the shop, hon.”

“You’re full of it. In the shop you weren’t wearing four-inch heels that make your legs go on for fucking miles. I’m so jealous right now. All the Roberts are giants compared to little me.”

I walk over to her and lean my elbow on her head to make a show of her petite size. “You’re a pocket rocket. Zander says so. And what Zander says—”

“Goes,” my brother says, walking into the room and wrapping his arms around Kate. “You’re the perfect size for me. I get to lift you up and throw you around.”

Kate starts giggling, and I start gagging. It’s a common occurrence when your big brother turns into a sap around his fiancée and you have to live with it.

“I’m totally going to spew if you keep that up, Zan. No sex in front of the sister. Remember. House rule numero uno.”

“That also means you do nothing in front of me either, Zoe.” There’s an edge to his words, something I can’t and won’t ignore.

“What does
that
mean?”

“It means, a certain doctor is going to be there tonight and you need to let me know if he tries anything. I’ve cooled down now, but I won’t hesitate in putting him back in his place if he steps out of line.”

I put my hands on my hips and glare at him, and not surprisingly, he doesn’t even flinch or brace himself for the onslaught of female empowerment he knows he’s about to encounter. “Excuse me, Mr. I’m Too Big For My Fucking Boots, have you forgotten that I’m A) an adult now, B) a big girl who can look after herself and that C) if I want to kiss a guy, or the good doctor himself, I’m free to do so since I am single, an adult, and an independent
woman?
”

His eyes soften and he steps to the side and around Kate, then walks straight up to me, putting his hands on my shoulders.
What is it with guys doing that lately?