Not About Love (This Love Book 2) (4 page)

“I’m sure she’s fine, brother. She’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself.” I took another bite of my eggs, and when I lifted my eyes, Lou was looking at me with a look on his face that seemed halfway disgusted.

“You know, you could try to care a little more, for once. Maybe I should call her—”

“Who says I don’t care? I’m sure she’s fine…and please don’t call her.”

“Why? You don’t like her? She’s my friend.”

I rolled my eyes and exhaled, trying to figure out how to explain myself. He couldn’t call her, not right then, at least. He was going to invite her over, I’d have to face her, and it would be uncomfortable as hell. No thanks.

“I never said that,” I replied, grabbing his hand that was already holding the phone. “I leave town today. Can’t I get my little brother to myself? I never get to see you.”

“Oh, sure…okay,” Lou replied, taken aback.
Nice save.
“Why are you leaving so soon?”

“Got things to do up in New York. You know, after you came back from Europe, I thought you were going to come visit more often and hang out in the Big Apple with me.” I gave him a look, and he let out a sigh. His shoulders sank. Hmm. I had thought my brother was over whatever had happened to him in the last few months, but apparently he was still reeling from his trip to Europe. He’d gotten divorced a few months back, and while he and his wife were separated, he’d gone to Europe and fallen in love with a girl.

I’d teased him about it when he came back over the summer, but apparently he didn’t want to hear it. This Ella girl had done quite the number on him. I could see it on his face he wasn’t over it. My brother always wore his heart on his sleeve. It must have been a family trait; I used to be like that, once upon a time, but I had smartened up since then.

My brother, however, hadn’t gotten the memo—not even after the way his ex-wife ditched him. He was
still
a hopeless romantic.

He straightened in his chair and looked into my eyes again.

“I can’t come to New York. We’re putting the finishing touches on the record.”

“When is it coming out?”

“Pretty soon. It’s just a matter of weeks, really.”

“So you’re going to do some promo and then you’ll have some tour dates? When do you think you’ll play in New York?”

“Not sure. I want to go to Europe first.”

“Because of that girl?” I asked with a laugh.

His eyes grew cold, his jaw taut.

“Come on, brother. Cut me some slack, will ya? You know I’m not like you,” I told him.

Lou let out a breath and seemed to relax a little. He got distracted by something he saw through the window, and he kept his gaze fixated on the street. He cleared his voice.

“You don’t understand. I need to see her. I was a real ass when we said goodbye.”

I laughed, rather loudly, and that seemed to startle him.

“You? An ass?” I asked with a grin.

He glanced sideways and made a vague gesture with his hand. He seemed at a loss for words.

“Yeah, me. I was an ass when our time together came to an end. I tried to convince her to do what I wanted, which was a terrible idea. I never should have done that. Then on top of that, when she proposed we stay in touch, I totally shut her down. I was a complete asshole.”

“Hmmm…I’ve done way worse,” I said with a laugh, taking a bite of my food.

“I’m sure you have…but you weren’t always like that.”

I paused, and then chewed the bite in my mouth and swallowed. Lou’s words stirred me up in a bad way. He knew what those words would do to me; why had he gone down that road? He knew I didn’t want to talk about it—ever. I could feel his eyes on me, but I avoided looking at him. I grabbed my mug, finished up the rest of the coffee, and slammed it on the table louder than I’d intended.

“And I was a fucking fool, wasn’t I?”

“It wasn’t your fault, Boyd,” Lou said in a calm tone, trying to sound reassuring, but his words had my blood boiling, and I felt like I was about to get swallowed up by painful memories yet again.

Seven months later, July 2014

I DIDN’T THINK ABOUT HIM.
At all. Not for seven months.

Okay, that’s a lie.

I did think about him. How could I not? I woke up on January first with a deliciously sore vagina. I could still remember how I felt that morning, the mixture of satisfaction and disappointment.

My vagina was the reminder of the satisfying night, then when I stretched my arm across the bed and noticed he was gone, disappointment sank in.

What had I expected, really? I had known what was going to happen. He’d said so himself, and I appreciated his honesty.

He’d been straightforward, and I actually kind of liked that about him.

I didn’t always meet men who told you up front to not have any expectations. I did hook up on a regular basis, and nine times out of ten I’d end up with the one who made you promises in order to take you to bed.

Did they know it wasn’t necessary? I never asked for anything. Was I asking any of them to date me? No. Most times, depending on how unsuccessful the night was on a scale from one to ten, I was the one who snuck out of the room.

Boyd had been almost infuriatingly precise about how the night was going to unfold.

* * *

When we got to my room that night, he sat me down on the bed and took a few steps away from me. That confused me, because up until that moment we hadn’t been able to take our hands off each other. It was so anti-climactic.

He touched his beard, looking down at the floor.

“Look, Red…you’re a big girl,” he started.

What the fuck?
Who did he think he was? And why was I even there? I got up to leave, until I remembered that this was
my
room.

“Excuse me? Fuck you! Why don’t you get your ass out of here?”

His head shot up straight as I said the words.

“No, no, no…that’s not what I meant—at all. Fuck! I’m fucking this up. I’m sorry…what I meant was that you’re a woman…a grown-ass woman, a woman who’s not naïve about things. Of course I didn’t mean your size…what kind of man do you think I am?” he asked, giving me a look of astonishment. Well, what kind of man did I think he was? I didn’t know him. I had no idea. I was just hoping he was the “good in bed” kind. I sat back down and folded my arms across my chest. He kneeled down in front of me, but I wasn’t looking at him. He needed to beg for my forgiveness.

“Red…you’re so damn beautiful, and I’m so fucking hard right now.”

That
got my attention. I let out a loud breath and finally looked at him.

“Okay, you’re off the hook. Let’s do it,” I told him, reaching for the hem of his Henley shirt so I could take it off.

“Wait…there’s something I have to say first.”

“Do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Kill the motherfucking mojo.”

The corner of his lips curled up, and his eyes softened.

“I’m not killing the mojo.” His voice was low and gruff, but the grin was still in place. I wanted to feel his breath on my skin. I was dying for his hands and lips to take me. I needed him to hurry the fuck up.

“You are,” I teased, pressing a finger to his rock hard chest. I bit my lip.
Fuck.
Could he hurry up already and show me what kind of magic he was packing?

He grabbed my legs and opened them to make room for him, and then he pulled me closer. His face was an inch away from mine, our noses almost touching.

My mouth opened, and I let out a sigh.

“You have no idea how fucking hard you’re making me, do you?”

“No. Fucking show me already.” The tone of my voice matched his, and I saw the glimpse of a smile.

“I need to say something first.”

“Again with the talking!” I rolled my head backward in frustration, but he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it.

“Look at me.” I reluctantly did as he said, but my eyes were full of irritation.

“I don’t do relationships. I don’t sleep with the same person twice. I don’t give anyone my number. I don’t stay in touch. Is that clear?”

I rolled my eyes. “Clear as a bell! By the way, did you miss the memo that I live on the other side of the world? Like I would have any expectations from you, Mr. Instagram.” He laughed, and the way his eyes lit up made me all fuzzy inside. “Come on, hurry up and take your pants off before I change my mind!”

He raised his hands up in the air as if to justify himself. “Women tend to be sentimental. I needed to make sure we were on the same page.” The tone of his voice was suddenly melancholic. How could he sound like a cocky bastard one minute and a southern gentleman the next? Boyd Rivers was a puzzling mystery, but I couldn’t worry about it, because I’d probably never see him again—well, maybe at Lou and Ella’s wedding, if they ever figured their shit out.

He got up and started getting undressed, taking off his shirt first.

I swallowed as he unveiled his massive chest right in front of my eyes. I chewed on the inside of my lip. Oh, the things I was going to do to him. He was a sight to behold.

All I could think was…
Happy New Year to me!

He turned his eyes away from me just for a moment to throw his shirt on a chair. He took off his boots and then started undoing his belt, his stare never leaving me. I wanted to take my clothes off, too, but I didn’t want to miss a second of this.

In a way, it was too good to be true. It was a
Midnight New Year’s Eve’s Dream
.

I let out a sigh when my eyes fell on his bulging erection, desperate to be freed from his boxer briefs. Fuck waiting. I took my sweater off in a frenzy and then stood up to take off my jeans.

“Let me,” he said.

He took off the rest of my clothes, his hands roaming over every inch of my body, teasing what was to come. His skilled fingers were the good sign I was looking for.
He passed the test
. I could not wait to have all of him.

“Are you ready to have the best sex of your life?” he asked, arching one eyebrow while rolling a condom on his cock.

“You just ruined it with your corny-ass words,” I replied.

He grabbed my hips and eased himself into me. He filled me and stretched me, and when it was clear I was comfortable, he thrust into me hard, taking me completely by surprise. I couldn’t hold back the moan that left my lips. He lifted my legs up and placed my ankles on his shoulders, then he lowered himself on top of me and said with a defiant grin, “We’ll see about that.”

* * *

As much as I hated to admit it, I did think about Boyd Rivers from time to time.

I knew I shouldn’t. I was completely aware of that. He was nothing but a cocky, self-centered bastard. He was vain. He was shallow. He was ambitious—too ambitious. I knew all of this because I had started stalking his Instagram. He knew he was good-looking and boy, was he ever milking it! He had over one hundred thousand followers fawning over him. I spied on his feed periodically, but I never followed him or liked his pictures. I just lurked. I didn’t want him to see my name and think I was hung up on him.

I wasn’t.

Unfortunately, it was true that he had been my last good lover. In the last few months, I’d had nothing but a slew of incompetent, messy amateurs. So, a lot of times, I would end up taking matters into my own hands and I’d use him as…
inspiration
. I’d look at his pictures, think about that night, and things would just…happen.

So, there it was. I wasn’t hung up on Boyd Rivers. I just used him to get off.

He would probably be delighted to hear that.

I had thought he’d be too self-centered for my taste, but that night I’d been surprised to find out he was a generous lover.

I knew it didn’t matter if I looked up what he was up to. Like he’d said, nothing was going to happen between us ever again. We lived on opposite continents.

I was never going to see him again.

Or so I thought.

Then Lou emailed me, saying he was going to stop in Amsterdam to win Ella back.

The kick? Boyd was going to be traveling with him.