Chapter 8

One beer turned into more than I could count, and by the time Masyn dragged me out of the rehearsal dinner, I was a hair away from telling Felicity where to shove it. She had Beau by the balls; I just didn't know what with. I'd picked at dinner in favor of scoping her out, watching her interact with him and his family, trying to gauge her end game. Mrs. Chastain wasn't buying her act, either. The way she pursed her lips anytime Felicity spoke to her-or near her-was a dead giveaway. Had I not consumed so much alcohol, I might be able to figure out why she was going along with the marriage of her son to a wretched witch. She didn't care that much about name and clout even if she did want her kids to marry well.

"Give me your keys." Masyn held her hand out, waiting for me to hand them over. The parking lot was nearly deserted, and only the hum of the streetlights broke the silence.

The keys were in my pocket. And my slacks were made of thin material. If she stuck her hand in there to reach for them, I'd get a cheap feel. It was wrong, but I'd done it so many times, Masyn didn't think anything about it. I turned around-my back to her front-to make it easier for her to access.

Oddly, she hugged me from behind before diving her hands into my pockets. Her cheek was warm on my spine, and I wanted her in my arms. Yet turning to face her broke the spell, and she grabbed the keys quickly, without so much as a brush up. The warmth of her hand pressing against my chest quickened my pulse. If she just tilted her head, I'd have an invitation to taste her lips. Instead, she used me for balance to reach down and remove her heels one at a time. The girly shoes dangled from her fingertips when she rounded the front of the truck to take the wheel.

"You're staying at my place tonight, right?" It was the deal, but I wouldn't make her if she didn't want to.

"A bet's a bet."

"I don't want you to stay because you lost a bet. Not to mention, you have to dance with me to pay that debt off-staying here had nothing to do with it."

She moved the seat up, buckled her belt, and adjusted the rearview mirror to account for our height difference. Then she turned the radio down, although not off, and positioned herself to cup my jaw with her soft, cool hand. "You're making omelets in the morning. That's your penance for poor behavior and intoxication. Now put your seatbelt on."

I hadn't done anything I shouldn't have other than consume a few too many bottles of beer. "That's all you want?" I asked, fumbling around until I found the belt and got it clicked into place.

She nodded, turned the key, and took off out of the parking lot.

"You're a cheap date."

"And you'd be an easy lay. But we don't all get what we want." She shrugged indifferently and giggled.

The sound of the engine tried to cut off my thoughts as we merged onto the main road. Even drunk, I hadn't missed that insinuation. "Wait, what?" The two words slurred a bit when I spoke, and the world around me might have shifted.

Now she decided to turn the radio up. To a deafening level. "I can't hear you." She mouthed the words and pointed to her ear.

To keep from getting sick, I needed to watch the road, but I was too lost in being an easy lay. "You want to lay me?"

An unsightly grimace drew her features in, and she gawked at me while we sat at a stoplight.

No. Wrong. I amended my crude words. "Sleep with me?" Still not right. "Sex. You want to have sex with me?"

Masyn winked and did a piss-poor job of concealing a giggle. "I can't hear you."

Now she was just fucking with me. "Are you mad because I'm a little inebriated?" I held up two fingers to indicate the tiny space that existed between me and sobriety. This was punishment for all the times she'd begged me not to get drunk and I'd done it anyhow.

She turned the stereo down a few decibels. "Yes, you are drunk. And no. Why would you think I'm mad?"

"Why would you say 'we don't all get what we want'?"

Masyn could have me anytime-she just had to say the word. Hell, she didn't even have to say it. She could take her clothes off, and I'd get the hint.

"I didn't say that."

"You did!"

"Stop yelling. We'll be home soon."

"Why?"

"Because you don't live far from here."

"No, why did you say that?"

"Say what?"

I swear to God, this woman would be the death of me.

"I'm just messing with you. I know it's not like that between us. You said I was a cheap date. Everyone in town knows you're an easy lay."

She was wrong. I might play the field, but I didn't sleep with random women-or any at all. Not to say I didn't get my dick wet; it just wasn't in anything other than some chick's mouth. I wasn't a virgin, but it had been several years since I'd had actual sex-oral didn't count-I'd learned that from Sissy Starnick in eighth grade Sunday school. I'd never tell Masyn that. The last thing I wanted her to know was that I was as inexperienced as she was...or close.

Before Alex made his proclamation in the cafeteria in tenth grade, he'd laid claim to Masyn's virginity with vivid details in the locker room. He was a senior, and we were sophomores. It made me mad as hell that Masyn dated him to begin with. Then, to hear him talk about the things they'd done sent me into orbit. In retaliation, I'd slept with Cynthia Green, the head cheerleader and Alex's ex-two birds, one stone kind of thing. Although technically, it was just the one bird-Cynthia.

It went on for several weeks-Alex shit talking and me boning Cynthia-before Beau got pissed and confronted Masyn. She vehemently denied having done anything other than let Alex feel her up. According to her, she'd never even seen a dick in person, much less felt one. Seeing her expression in the lunchroom, it was clear she'd told us the truth and still held fast to her virginity. I never touched Cynthia again, but by that point, my reputation was established, and Masyn never believed anything different. Truth be told, I hadn't tried to set the record straight.

Although, if she actually thought about it, she was with me most waking hours of every day, whether at work or outside of it. I had no idea who I could be fucking or when I'd be doing it without Masyn present to witness it. Bathrooms were great for a quick blowjob; they were not the place to take a girl against the wall...especially not the dives I drank at.

"I'm not an easy lay." I sounded like a petulant child on the verge of tattling or throwing a temper tantrum.

She giggled and patted my head. "Oh? Do you make them work for it?"

"Who? Make who work for it?"

"I don't know. Your entourage. The girls you call darling and sweetheart."

I shook my head, trying to explain. "There's only one."

"Why didn't you tell me you're dating someone?" Her giddy mood turned south real quick.

"I'm not. Jesus, Masyn. When the hell would I have time to date and you not be aware of it?" My tongue was thick and the words rolled into each other.

She pulled into the driveway and I hopped out. I stomped all the way to the door before I realized she had my keys and I couldn't get in. When she caught up to me, she didn't put the key in the deadbolt. Instead, her hands found my hips and turned me toward her.

"I'm sorry, Lee. I didn't mean to upset you." She stared up through the height distance, waiting for my forgiveness.

If I weren't drunk, this would be the time to tell her she had it all wrong. The girls she'd seen on my arm or in my truck were nothing more than something to pass the time. Since I was inebriated, my confession would be seen as alcohol-induced rambling. And other than the comment she'd made five minutes ago about not getting what she wanted, there had never even been a hint that she felt the same way about me that I did her. So, I held on to my pride.

"No worries."

She came in for a quick hug, and I inhaled the fresh scent of her shampoo. I still preferred the smell of oil on her to flowers any day. Her tiny frame pressed against my side warmed me from the core and spread throughout my body. I'd sell my truck to buy her affection if it were for sale. Once she opened the door, I stumbled over the threshold, nearly busting my ass in the entryway. The same way she'd done a hundred times before, she reached out to keep me from falling and helped me back to my room.

I closed my eyes to pray for the room to stop spinning, and I tried to pull my shirt over my head.

Her laughter reminded me I wasn't alone. She took her hand away from her mouth to point to my chest. "You have to unbutton it first."

When I lifted my lids, she was there in front of me. Her tiny fingers plied the buttons from their holes and then tugged on the hem. My arms felt like deadweight at my sides, and I swayed with her touch. Stopping her when she went for my belt buckle took a monumental effort. This dance would turn erotic, and I wouldn't be able to stop. My mental function might be impaired, but my physical wasn't. I concentrated on anything repulsive that came to mind to will my dick to lay low.

She held her hands up in surrender. "I was just trying to help."

"I got it. You need to get some sleep. Festivities start at ten."

"I'll set the alarm on my phone. What time do you want me to get you up?"

I didn't intend to ignore her question; I just couldn't stand any longer when my bed was so close by. Quickly stripping down to my boxers, I tossed my clothes into the corner and crawled onto the mattress without considering I was nearly naked with her two feet away.

As I dozed off, a soft, moist pair of lips brushed against my forehead, and then the blankets shifted when she pulled them over me.

"Night, sleepyhead."