“Oh, no. Fuck, honey. Not Dave Grohl. I mean, he’s a good guy and there were flashes of definite genius back in the Nirvana days, sure.” His hands slid from my waist down the sides of my thighs, holding me steady. “Whoa, where’d they go?”
“Hmm? Mal, stop.”
He stared straight at my sex, studying it. A little line sat between his brows. Deep down inside, I could live without him doing that right now. The man’s parents were on the other side of the door. The woman who’d given birth to him was busy cleaning up the mess we’d made. So not the time to be getting familiar with me. Quizzing me on famous drummers could probably also wait.
“Can you not, please? And where’d what go?” I threw a leg over the side of the bath, stepping down carefully onto the slippery floor. Getting the hell away from his overly intrusive eyes. My robe hung on the back of the bathroom door, fortunately. I hadn’t thought to bring in a change of clothes and my work wear sat in a soggy heap in the corner.
“Your pubes,” he said, angst filling his voice. “Where are they?”
“I wax.”
His nose wrinkled up in obvious disgust. “Well, stop it. I want cute carrot-colored pubic hair like on the top of your head. I deserve it.”
I bit back a smile. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?”
“It’s been almost a week. I had to have something to beat off to.”
“You’ve been masturbating to the thought of me?” I asked, thrilled. Clapping would probably be uncool, plus his parents might hear.
“Do I have a dick, Anne?” Mal climbed out, water running out of his soaked jeans, flowing out of his Chucks. What a beautiful wet disheveled mess.
“Given the size of the bulge in the front of your jeans, I’m going to answer yes to that question, Malcolm.”
“Then, yeah, of course I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’ve been thinking about your * constantly, what it looks like, what it tastes like, how it’ll feel.” He towered over me, half naked and dripping wet. The dripping-wet part was definitely going around. “Why do you think I was on Ben’s couch last night? No one else I wanna fuck. It’s gotta be you.”
“Wow,” I whispered.
“You gonna give me shit about not being romantic like you did last time?”
“Nope.”
“Nope?” His fingers toyed with the collar of my robe. Not undoing it, just hanging on.
I gripped the waist of his jeans and lifted my face, pressing my lips to his. “All I heard was blah blah I’ve been thinking about you constantly. Blah blah it’s got to be you. It was perfect, pure romance.”
He grinned. “You’re crazy.”
“We might have that in common, yes.”
“I definitely need you to know I have a dick.” He rubbed his lips over my jawline, making me shiver.
“Show it to me later?”
“Since you asked so nicely.” He drew back slightly. “Shit, we’re not going to start acting all nauseating like Davie and Ev are we?”
“Isn’t that how we’re supposed to be behaving?”
“Yeah, but it was funny while we were faking it. If we’re doing it for real …” He left the thought hanging.
My lust cooled significantly, chilling me. Because for real meant people getting hurt. And people getting hurt most likely meant me. It might also mean him, yes. But the odds were not in my favor. I already knew how much it would sting when our fake relationship ended. But a real relationship? That would be so much worse.
“I, um … why don’t we just take it easy? See how it goes,” I said.
“Can’t stop now.” He rested his forehead against mine. “We really fucking need to have sex, Anne.”
“Yes. But things don’t have to change if we start sleeping together.”
“They don’t?”
“No. It’ll be fine.” God didn’t smite me. Who knew, it could even be the truth.
“Cool,” he said, cocky grin back in full force. He held one big hand aloft, waiting for me to high-five him. “Damn, we’re good.”
I slapped our palms together, before slipping my fingers between his and holding on tight. “We so are.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When it came to his parents’ visit, Mal went all out.
He threw on dry clothes and mopped out the bathroom while I hid in the tub behind the curtain. All in all, he got his parents out of the apartment quite quickly. I heard his mom asking about my decimated bed (because the bedroom doors were wide open too). Our on-and-off, real-and-fake relationship was slowly destroying my apartment and its contents. Though hopefully the water spillage hadn’t done too much damage.
Mal mumbled an explanation about the bed and his father changed the topic of conversation. What the hell had he told them? Now they probably thought I was some sort of sex fiend, knowing him. Though the real reason, that we’d been jumping on the bed like a pair of idiots, wasn’t something I wanted his parents knowing either.
I got dried and finished up the mopping. Fifteen minutes later Mal texted me.
Mal: Car will b there in 15
Anne: Where are we going?
Mal: Surprise
Anne: I don’t like surprises. Where are we going?
Anne: Answer me or I will hurt you while you sleep. I need to know what to wear etc
Mal: Wear nothing
Anne: …Try again
Mal: Restaurant in town. Wear a skirt
Mal: Plz?
Anne: Your wish is my command
Mal: HAHA I fucking wish