Whipped (Hitched, #2)

This ought to be interesting.

I make the bank just in time to get cashier's checks drawn up and taken in person to three different buildings to keep my life from being shut off.

And I still have money left. I feel like splurging but resist the urge. Instead, I set my course for home, ready to curl up with a good book and glass of wine, when my phone rings.

"Vi, hey, I need a huge favor."

"What's up, Zoe?"

"The vendor delivering our new shipment of dildos just got to the store, and I know it's my night to do receiving but Henry and I are in the middle of another… discussion, and I can't leave now. Can you cover for me? I'll close for you for a week if you do. Pretty please with cherries and extra rich whipped cream?"

I can't help but laugh, even though I feel bad for her right now and have to bite my tongue to keep from telling her to leave the ass she's with. He so does not deserve her. "Sure, I got you covered, no problem."

I hear Henry in the background… crying. God.

She sighs. "I gotta go. …Wait, oh shit, how did things go with the roomie? You all set?"

"Girlfriend, you are not going to believe what went down tonight."

Henry calls out to Zoe, a sound of desperation through tears and snot. She sighs again. "You've got me intrigued. I can't wait to hear every detail," she says, adding, "tomorrow?"

"Sure, tomorrow. I hope things settle down for you. If you need me, I'm here." I hang up, turn my car around and drive to Whipped.

The delivery guy is waiting there, stacks of boxes by his feet, when I arrive. I smile big and thank him for his patience.

"No worries. Where do you want them?" The guy is actually pretty sexy. A cross between a younger Brad Pitt and a current Channing Tatum.

I unlock the store and direct him toward the back, where we keep our inventory. "Could you stack them here?"

I can't help but put an extra sway to my hips as I walk, and I see him noticing my ass, which pleases me.

And I know he sees me noticing his bulging muscles under his FedEx uniform. Suddenly, I feel like I'm in a porn, and I can't help but laugh as I concoct a reason to keep him here longer.

"Can I get you something to drink before you go? We have some bottled water in back."

He grins and his chipped front tooth makes him even sexier. The tousled dark hair and bedroom eyes don't hurt either. Am I seriously thinking of seducing the FedEx guy in my own fucking store? I've clearly lost my mind.

"Thank you, that would be nice."

I get the water for him and he drinks the bottle quickly.

As we stand there, the silence stretches awkwardly as the sexual tension builds. But neither of us makes a move. Normally, this would be my time to come in as Dom and manage the situation, but… I don't. It just doesn't feel right. Instead, I thank him again for waiting and he leaves, a slight frown of disappointment on his lips.

I do a quick check of the shipment, confirming we do indeed have ten boxes of a variety of dildos and sex toys and, in a moment of abandon, I grab a dildo from the top of the box, drop $40 in the cash register and head home.

What? It's product testing.

***

When I arrive home, it's late, and I'm ready for bed. I have to get to the store extra early tomorrow to set up the new dildos before we open, and I need a solid eight hours of sleep to function adequately. Always have. I consider it a DNA flaw inherited from my mother.

I've all but forgotten about my new roommate as I turn off my light and lay down, my bed embracing me in luxury. I'm falling into sleep when something knocks against my bedroom wall and someone moans.

And for the next several hours I endure a cacophony of "oh my God" and "you're so huge" and "fuck me harder" and "deeper, oh yes, God!" as Lachlan's bed bangs against my wall. Great.

So much for easing in to a having a roommate.

I rummage through my bedside dresser for my earplugs and shove them in my ears, but it doesn't completely block out the sound. I toss and turn all night, with dreams too strange to speak of, and wake with one need. Coffee, with lots of sugar and milk.

In sweats and a robe, I shuffle to the kitchen before my eyes have fully opened. Which is probably for the best. Because there's a nearly naked woman in a g-string standing in front of my open refrigerator. Drinking out of my milk jug.

She smiles when she sees me, her platinum hair artfully styled in the 'just fucked but still sexy' look. "Morning. Hope we didn't keep you up."

I don't even know what to say. I just stand there, looking like one of those cartoon characters with my jaw dropped. She holds out the milk, then frowns into it. "Oops, sorry, I think I drank the last of it. I'm Jessie, by the way. Sorry if we were too loud last night, but God, you know how Lach is." Jessie. The one from the store.