Perfectly Charming (A Morning Glory Novel Book 2) (16 page)

Jess started moving her hips, establishing a strong rhythm. Thirteen months. That’s how long it had been since she’d had sex. The month before Benton had come home and dropped his shit bomb, they’d not had sex. He’d claimed stress, and she’d accepted it because he’d started a new position in his company. So the sensation of Ryan filling her, rolling her nipples between his finger and thumb, giving her honeyed words all combined to build quickly the delicious pressure of orgasm. Her body tightened; her mind went into that trancelike state where there was only him, her, and that ancient movement that brought dizzying pleasure. Blinding pleasure. Toe-curling pleasure.

And then his thumb parted her and found her clit. Like a huge wave rolling over a small boat, she broke apart, spasms of sheer, unadulterated pleasure washing over her. She screamed and leaned forward, fisting her hands in the softness of the quilt.

“Oh wow, that’s . . . I can feel you coming,” Ryan said, lifting his hips, turning her over. He slid his hands under her knees, tilting her back slightly so that he went even deeper inside her. The head of his cock rubbed the perfect spot over and over again until she fell to pieces again.

Jess slammed her hands down on either side of her. “Oh shit. I’m coming again.”

Ryan’s breathing was ragged in her ear. He dropped tender kisses against her neck. “Come again. And again. As much as you can, baby. Just let loose and give it all to me.”

So she did. All thoughts other than stretching once again for that pinnacle fled as her body took over. She’d never felt anything like it, but she went with it.

Soon, Ryan’s hoarse cry sounded in her ear, and the jerking of his hips signified he, too, had achieved that sweet crest. His body shuddered, and he gave a little shake, as if he had the chills, before slowing and collapsing on top of her. And even as he stopped moving, the muscles inside her clutched at him, demanding more. She didn’t want to stop, but she couldn’t take anymore. She’d lost track of the orgasms.

“Oh my God,” she said, spitting her hair out of her mouth, breath coming hard as deep satisfaction ebbed and flowed inside her body.

Ryan laughed and kissed the side of her boob before withdrawing and rolling over. “Damn straight. That felt amazing.”

Jess started laughing. “I may have set a record for the most orgasms ever.”

“Let me get the clipboard,” he said, making like he was about to get up. She grabbed his arm and jerked him back to her. He gave her a sweaty kiss and then collapsed back. “Doesn’t matter. The hypothesis is proven. When Jess Culpepper, fantasy girl, shows up on dorky Ryan Reyes’s doorstep wearing a black satin garter belt and a lab coat, something explosive will go down.”

“We’ve got good chemistry,” she said with another laugh. God, it felt so good to laugh, to have had amazing sex, to feel so sexy, sated, and . . . loved.

Of course, this wasn’t love. At all. It was a post-coital glow. But still the feeling was much the same.

“You’ve got a nice set of test tubes,” he joked, grinning like a fool. Jess rolled over to her side and stroked the sparse trail of hair on his belly. He still wore the spent condom.

“Pink peonies?” she said, smiling down at him.

He lifted a hand and tweaked her nipple. “I know. It was bad, but I couldn’t think of a good comparison. My grandmother used to grow them in—”

“Ah, don’t mention your grandmother! The woman would be appalled at what I just did with her grandson.”

Ryan inhaled. “Actually, I think she’d be happy I was getting some. She worried a lot about me growing up. She kept telling my parents, ‘The boy needs to be normal,’ to which they’d reply, ‘But he’s not normal.’ It was a constant debate. Ol’ Granny Lou would probably high-five me. I haven’t seen her in a while, so she hasn’t seen my bid to be normal. But she’d be supportive of me claiming my own life . . . of me getting some from the head cheerleader.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m thinking I should have worn my cheerleading uniform instead of the lab coat,” Jess said, moving her hand up to his broad chest and nuzzling in close to him. “Maybe next time. Of course, it’s in storage in Morning Glory, but maybe I can order something online.”

“Will there be a next time?” he asked, stroking the piece of hair that had come down during their lovemaking.

Jess froze. She’d never thought this was a one-and-done sort of thing. But how stupid of her. Of course Ryan wasn’t treating them as an exclusive thing. He had women swarming over him . . . or at least that’s what Becky and Tanae had implied. Hadn’t Morgan already tried to mark her territory?

The fact her hand had stopped on his chest and she hadn’t responded must have alarmed Ryan, because he lifted his head. “Hey, I’ll understand if you don’t want to—”

“No, I just hadn’t thought much beyond right now,” Jess said, shaking her head. “I mean, I understand that you don’t want to make this—”

“—a relationship?” he interrupted.

Jess pressed her lips together. “Maybe we shouldn’t define anything. Maybe we go with it. I don’t want to hem you into anything you’re uncomfortable with, but to be honest, I’m not interested in doing this with anyone other than you. In fact, I turned a really cute oncologist down earlier today. But I don’t want to—”

“No. I do,” Ryan said, lifting upon his elbow. “I mean, I’m not interested in any other woman right now. You’re all I can think about since I first saw you. I know I was bombed out of my mind, but still it registered that Jess was here, looking hotter than a . . . Bunsen burner. After that, there was only you in my mind, filling up all the spaces. So I want to do this thing, whatever it is, for as long as it’s good for both of us.”

“You do?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. She hadn’t expected him to be so honest, but hadn’t he been exactly that from the outset?

“Yeah,” he said, smiling at her. “And I can’t imagine this being the only time I touch you”—he brushed his hand across her rib cage, making her stomach tremble—“that I taste you”—he dipped his head toward her, capturing her lips against his in a soft kiss—“or that I’ll feel your body tightening against mine. You’re gorgeous when you come.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her body quickening once again with desire. “I think we’re in agreement that our experiment must be carried out over the course of several months. We have much to touch, taste, and feel.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said against her mouth as he kissed her once more. “Now let me take care of this used condom, and we’ll start the next experiment. I think in this one we’ll take off the stockings and garters so I can kiss every inch of your delicious body.”

“And I’ll start thinking of comparisons for your body parts while you’re gone. Maybe the fleshy tuber of your love. Or perhaps the velvet steel sword,” she joked.

Ryan slapped her ass. “That’s right. Milton’s got nothing on you.”

Chapter Twelve

Two days later, Jess managed to get in touch with Rosemary. Her friend had called her several times, but it was always when Jess was on duty or rolling around in the sheets with Ryan. Then when Jess returned her call, Rosemary was busy helping her future husband at the restaurant . . . or rolling around in the sheets with Sal.

“Finally,” Rosemary breathed with laughter in her voice. This was how her friend had sounded ever since Sal had crossed the town square of Morning Glory sweating buckets in order to propose to her. Jess had never seen her friend happier or more fulfilled. Jess remembered what that was like, that rosy glow. In fact, it was easier to recall now that she’d spent the past two nights having amazing sex with Ryan, pausing only to enjoy a pint of Ben and Jerry’s before getting back to business. She was afraid if they didn’t slow down, she’d end up with a bladder infection. But the hazy, wonderful feeling of having good sex paired with the laughter and waking up with someone there to make coffee—even though she didn’t drink it—was something she’d been happy to wrap herself in.

“Sorry we’ve been playing phone tag,” Jess said, sinking onto the hammock on the porch of the Dirty Heron, staring out at the bay gently lapping the sandy shore. “I’ve been working a lot.”

“And according to Eden, you’ve been playing around with the Brain. She showed me the picture. Good God, he’s like Adonis and Tom Cruise had a baby. Of course, I have no idea what Adonis looked like. Well, come to think of it, he wasn’t even real, but you know what I mean.”

“I do. And, yes, Ryan Reyes grew up to be a hottie. I almost feel dirty playing around with him. But not too dirty to stop,” Jess said, feeling more like herself than she had in forever. Like she was getting back the part of herself that could joke and act nonchalant. The part of her that drawled naughty comebacks and drank gin martinis. The part of herself that wasn’t a whiny bitch who got sad during Hallmark commercials and slept in an old shirt of her ex-husband’s she’d found when she cleaned out her drawers. Yeah, the unpathetic part.

“Well, well, aren’t you the cougar? Well, I guess technically you’re not a cougar. But you know what I mean.”

“I am a cougar. I think. I’m three years older than him, so does that make me one?”

Rosemary laughed. “I don’t think so. Does it matter?”

“Nope. So what’s going on? You don’t have pregnancy brain, do you?” Jess asked. Rosemary sounded more scattered than usual.

“No! Good gravy, do not even suggest that. My mother would be planning the baby shower with gossamer ribbon and tiered petits fours. It’s bad enough I have to deal with her and this wedding.”

“You’ve picked a date?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We’re actually getting married Labor Day weekend.”

“Labor Day weekend? That’s in, like, two weeks.”

“I know, but for the past few weeks we’ve argued back and forth with my mom and Sal’s mom and . . . it’s just getting to be too much. Our families are driving us crazy. So since his parents are coming down here to meet my parents over Labor Day, we said to hell with it and booked the church. Luckily, his brothers and one of his sisters can come, too. Oh, and his grandmother Sophie. But I want you here. You have to be here for my wedding.”

“I don’t know, Rose. I can try to switch weekends with someone on another shift, but it’s a holiday.”

“I can’t get married without you,” Rosemary said, her voice suddenly quiet. Jess could almost hear her thoughts.
Lacy won’t be here. I can’t have you missing, too.
“You have to be a bridesmaid. Only you and Eden. I’m not even asking my cousin Mary Charlotte.”

“And your mother knows this?”

“Not yet. It will cause another argument, but Mary Charlotte does not want to be in my wedding anyway. Sammi Jo Henry overheard her tell Marion Trask at Rio Grande that very thing when she stopped in for Taco Tuesday. Sammi Jo called me because she thought I ought to know when someone didn’t have the decency to want to be in her own cousin’s wedding. She said Mary Charlotte told Marion that if she had to wear one more ugly dress and paste a fake smile on her face, she was going to puke. So Mary Charlotte is out.”

“Bloodthirsty, aren’t you?”

“It’s Sal’s influence. The New Yorker in him cuts through the bullshit.”

Jess laughed at her genteel friend rattling off “bullshit” like it was natural for her. Prim, prissy Rosemary rarely cursed. Her mother didn’t deem it ladylike, so she’d stricken all swear words from her daughter’s vocabulary. Once when they were sixteen, they’d spent the entire night calling each another “motherfucker” so they could practice getting ready for college. They’d also bought a pack of Virginia Slims and sat by the screened window blowing smoke out. Rosemary had managed to use
motherfucker
twice and puff on three cigarettes that she never inhaled. “I like when you talk tough.”

“So will you ask your boss at the hospital? Beg them. Tell them I have to have my best friends with me.”

“I’ll see what I can do to get a shift change. I’ll say pretty please and spring for lunch one day. That should to the trick. Nurses love free food,” Jess said.

“Oh good. Let me know as soon as you can. Oh, and feel free to bring a guest,” Rosemary said, her voice rising to an almost singsong trill.

“I don’t have to, do I? Eden’s not bringing anyone, is she?”

“Just Henry, but he was invited anyway. He’s my cousin.”

“I know. And Benton?”

There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, Jess, but I have to invite him. His family has been our family’s friends forever. Lydia was in my mother’s wedding, and they’re still thick as thieves. Benton and I played in the sprinkler together when we were two years old. We vacationed together at Seaside for five years. And don’t freak out, but Lydia is singing at the wedding. It was the one concession I made to my mother.”

“Oh God,” Jess groaned. “Tell me she’s not doing ‘Ave Maria.’”

“No. She’s going to sing ‘Loving You.’”

“Never heard of it.”

Rosemary sighed. “It’s an Elvis song, but that doesn’t matter now. You have to understand, my mother is so pissed at me. I’ve already told her about serving Italian at the reception and having an open bar. She said it was profane. So I can only drop so many bombs on her each day.”

“God,” Jess groaned. “You’re not making this sound attractive. Is Benton bringing a date?”

“Maybe. We’re not asking for a RSVP. Too short of notice. Invites went out two days ago.” Again, Jess could hear the apology in Rosemary’s voice. Her friend’s mother made Sherman’s march through the South look like a freaking picnic. The woman rolled over anyone who got in her way . . . one of the reasons she’d never liked Jess. Of course, Patsy Reynolds didn’t like Eden, either—wrong side of the tracks and all that.

Shit. Jess wasn’t certain she could get off for her best friend’s wedding, which would suck, but she wasn’t certain it would suck more than showing up single at a wedding where her ex-husband would be sitting with some big-boobed plaything of the week. It would be humiliating. If Eden planned on going as a single, Jess wouldn’t feel so bad. But that she’d asked Henry to be her date meant Jess needed a date, too. She just couldn’t show up looking . . . lonely.

But she couldn’t see Ryan agreeing to be her plus one. Labor Day weekend meant he’d be booked. And the biggest reason would be the hugest hurdle—the man hated Morning Glory.

But who else could she take as a date?

Maybe Chris Haven. He’d moved back to Morning Glory a few months back. Unfortunately, he did a disservice to most gay guys by having the fashion sense of Queen Elizabeth II. Still, the man loved a good wedding and wouldn’t paw her on the dance floor. He could be a possibility. Or maybe she could hire a date? Like in one of those zany romantic comedies Debra Messing liked to star in. Or she could beg Ryan. Because the thought of Benton dancing with a Dixie Cream worker (rumored to be his newest conquest) made Jess want to barf. Besides, Ryan would look incredible in a suit. If he wore seersucker and a bow tie, he could make most of the Kappa Kappa Gammas who’d no doubt show up to watch their former vice president of pledge education get married spontaneously combust. He would be the perfect date . . . if she could talk him into it.

That was a big
if
and a tall order, since their relationship was very loose in structure.

“I’ll get back with you tomorrow, Rose. I can’t make promises, but God willing and the creek don’t rise, I’ll be there when you wed your sweetie.”

“Thank you, Jess. Oh, and I’m making the bridesmaids’ dresses. Vintage 1950s cocktail dresses. I bought the hot-pink satin years ago not knowing what I’d do with it, and it’s going to make the smartest dresses. Thankfully, I already had your measurements from the Halloween costume I made last year, so no worries there.”

Vintage satin cocktail dresses? So Rosemary. “Sounds pretty.”

“I have this whole ’50s theme I’m doing. Sal hired an Elvis impersonator for the reception. We saw him when we went to Memphis last weekend.”

“Let me guess, you haven’t told Patsy yet.”

“God, no. And we’re not telling her. She thinks Holly Bryson’s quartet is playing, so don’t breathe a word. Oh my God, I’m getting married in a few weeks. Can you believe?”

Jess smiled and rose, stretching on her toes, working the kink out of her neck. She’d banged it on the headboard the night before. Full-fledged sex injury. “Actually I can. You deserve this. I can’t wait to wear pink satin and dance to ‘Blue Suede Shoes.’ Wait, we’re not wearing those, are we?”

“No, silly. I am.” Rosemary laughed. “See you soon. I pray.”

“’Bye, Rose.”

Jess hung up and walked back into the house, noting Morgan coming up the walk next door. She waved at the normally happy brunette. Morgan didn’t wave back.

“Okay,” Jess muttered and walked back into the condo.

Ryan had reported Morgan and his friend had gone out several times and seemed to be embarking on their own romance. Even if that were true, Morgan still hadn’t forgiven her for stealing Ryan. Which was a shame, because Jess had liked Morgan when she wasn’t being possessive. But it didn’t matter if her neighbor didn’t like her. Jess had only one more week at the Dirty Heron before she had to vacate. The realty company had found her another couple of places that might work, but Jess had yet to choose one. None seemed as perfect as where she now lived. Of, course that could have to do with the fact Ryan lived a hop, skip, and jump away.

An hour and a half later, Jess had takeout from Little China on Ryan’s table and wine chilling in the fridge, and she wore a pretty sundress that showed plenty of cleavage. After having talked Becky into covering for her, promising to bring her cupcakes and lunch for a week and take her shift for the following weekend, Jess was set to spend Labor Day weekend in Morning Glory. All that was left was to do was persuade her stud muffin to accompany her.

“No way,” Ryan said, sipping the buttery chardonnay and setting the glass down. “I’d rather have my balls waxed than go to Morning Glory. And for a wedding?” He shivered and made a face.

“But it’s for Rosemary. You always liked her, right?” Jess looked plaintive, but not plaintive enough to budge him.

“Sure. I guess. She never really talked to me other than to boss me around when doing the yearbook spread. I knew I shouldn’t have joined that club. My mother insisted I needed to have at least one other activity other than chess club. I thought being a photographer would be interesting, studying the contrast in color and medium. I forgot I’d have to actually go to events and work under a very . . . uh, exacting editor. So if you want to call tolerating her liking her, then I guess I liked her even if she didn’t appreciate artistry in photography.”

Jess’s eyes sparkled, reminding him of a honey tigereye stone he’d bought at a museum once. “You tried to bring artistry to taking the group picture of the Future Farmers of America?”

Ryan shrugged. “Even farmers deserve good bounce lighting.”

Her laughter made his heart warm. “Bounce lighting? You actually brought a screen?”

“My mother’s bedsheet.”

Jess clutched her stomach and nearly choked on her lo mein. “Oh my gosh, I don’t remember Rose saying anything about that. That’s hilarious.”