Crazy, Stupid Sex Read online

  “You don’t have to get off me.”

  “I’m on the clock. I kinda do.”

  “I think the boss would understand.”

  “The boss is showing questionable judgment today,” she said, picking her clothing off the floor and wiggling back into it.

  “Do you regret it?”

  She frowned. “No.”

  She should regret it. She should feel utterly weirded out, but she didn’t. She felt…fine. With all of it. And that made her feel a little giddy. And like maybe the app she was making was magic. Because somehow, all of the things in it had helped make her brave enough to do things she’d barely let herself fantasize about.

  “But I do have work to do,” she said. “That’s what you do when you have a job.”

  “Ah,” he said, standing up and tucking himself back into his pants.

  She almost couldn’t handle watching him redo his belt. Just looking at it made her a little shaky, in the best way.

  “You’ll get the hang of this work business.”

  “I guess I’ll have to.”

  “Yeah, you have to oversee me.” His expression turned to granite. Very sexy granite. “I guess I do.”

  “I assume I’ll be going to your house tonight after work,” she said.

  “Do you?”

  “Well, yes. I can’t only bang you during business hours. And I do intend to bang you again.”

  “That’s charming.”

  “Well, I thought so.”

  “Sure. How long do you want to go on with the…banging?” he asked.

  “Until I’ve fulfilled my contract,” she said. “How does that strike you?”

  He smiled and walked toward her, extending his hand. She put hers out, and he shook it. “You have yourself a deal.”

  Chapter Seven

  Evie hadn’t arrived yet, and Caleb found himself feeling…nervous? Surely not that. He didn’t get nervous about whether or not a woman would show up for a date. For sex. It wasn’t even a date. He didn’t do dates.

  Hookups. He did hookups. And he didn’t feel even a little bit bad about it. Life was short—you had to live it while you could.

  Usually, he chose to live it with a different woman every night. But Evie was…available. Because he’d…gotten himself hired on at his father’s company so he could get a position in her office building.

  Whatever. She was around. And she was coming over.

  And if she wasn’t it didn’t matter, because he could get a woman whenever he needed one. Though, he’d never had an encounter with a woman quite like the one he’d had with Evie earlier today.

  Or on Friday night.

  He’d never been into tying women up, or screwing them in public. Hell, beds worked just fine for him, thanks. But she’d been so hot. So into it. It was like she was exploring her sexuality for the first time, and using him to help. And what guy wouldn’t get off on that?

  There was something about the way she wanted him, about her mixture of boldness, innocence and total sense of adventure that got to him. Made him crave more.

  But in order for him to get more, she had to show up. And he wanted her to. Okay, he needed her to. He could admit that much, even though it galled him.

  He didn’t do need. Or attachment. He wasn’t up to it. He had nothing to offer back. Woe to the person he needed because there was nothing he could do to adequately compensate them for fulfilling his needs.

  Yeah, he was good in bed, he knew that. But there was more to life than that. Or there was more to most people’s lives, anyway. In his life, that was basically the beginning and end of it. Which was fine.

  The doorbell rang and he strode toward the entry. “Thank God,” he muttered, jerking the door open. “You’re late,” he said, looking at the woman standing out there on the step.

  She was bar hookup Evie again. Not work Evie, in stretch pants and dorky T-shirt. She was wearing killer heels and a tight red dress that showed off just how flawless her curves were. She also looked big-eyed and nervous, slightly awkward.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

  “What do I care what you’re wearing? It’s only going to end up on the floor.”

  She frowned. “I spent time on this selection.”

  “And you look amazing. But you looked amazing to me earlier, too.” She blinked rapidly. “I did?”

  “You’re beautiful. What you’re wearing doesn’t have anything to do with it. Now come in.”

  She did, walking in slowly, her hands clasped in front of her. He shut the door behind her. Evie was back out of her element again.

  “It’s not any different than earlier,” he said, gripping her chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilting her face up to look at him. “You remember what you did to me earlier.”

  “I remember what you did to me.”

  “Come on, baby,” he said, sliding his hand down her arm and guiding her palm to his cloth-covered cock. “Feel what you do to me?”

  He was hard already. Had been hard from thinking about her. From fantasizing about what might happen tonight. His Evie was full of surprises. He was the first to admit to being jaded. To finding very little about life exciting or interesting.

  But she was exciting. She was interesting.

  And in a world where nothing was, it was something like finding water in the desert.

  “I thought maybe we should have dinner…or talk or…okay.” He pulled her in and kissed the words right from her lips. He had to, because he wasn’t sure what he’d say if she wanted to talk. He felt weird. He felt, period, and that was weird.

  He kissed her deep and long, his tongue sliding against hers. She made little kittenish sounds of pleasure, her fingernails kneading his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time just kissing a woman had been so rewarding. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to linger on a kiss.

  This wasn’t about rushing through to the main event, but with her, it never had been. With Evie, it had always been the lure of the unknown.

  Not because she was slick and mysterious, but because her honesty was so unpredictable. She was sort of scary to watch, too. She was someone who didn’t seem to know how to protect the most vulnerable pieces of herself.

  It scared him for her. Made him want to demand she cover up, put on a helmet to keep from the missiles that would fly her direction when other people saw just how unprotected she was.

  But at the same time, he wanted her to stay the same. Because he liked what she gave to him. Which was a hell of a douchey thing. To want to use that sweetness, that guilelessness for his own satisfaction.

  But then, he’d established early on in his life that he was in fact a dickbag, so it seemed in keeping with his character. If you could call what he had character. And he couldn’t say he cared much either way.

  He was all about satisfaction. The here and now. And Evie catered to all of that.

  “You got more on your list?”

  “Yes, yes I do.”

  * * *

  A long time later, they lay in his bed, their limbs tangled together. He didn’t like to linger in bed with women, normally. That was why he’d left her sleeping on Friday. But he didn’t want to leave her tonight, and he honestly couldn’t figure out why.

  Maybe because the weight of her body felt good. Or because her hair was really soft. Or because he was just too destroyed to move.

  “So tell me something about you,” he said, and he didn’t know why he wanted to know that either. Anonymity was safe for everyone involved.

  But then, they weren’t anonymous. He’d seen where she worked. She knew who his father was.

  They’d exchanged firsts.

  “What…anything?”

  “Yeah, sure, anything.”

  “I…was not very popular in school.”

  He laughed. “No kidding. I was.”

  “No kidding,” she said, kissing him on the chest. He felt the small gesture with all the impact of a bullet.
/>   “Something else,” he said, “make it good.”

  “I lost my virginity on prom night.”

  “Me too,” he said. “Not my prom night. I was too young to go to prom. But I think a prom may have been taking place somewhere.”

  She smacked his shoulder. “I’m baring my soul, asshole, come on.”

  “It was formative for me.”

  “Unfortunately, my first time was also formative.”

  “How was it?”

  “Boring as hell. I remember lying there thinking ‘that’s all the way?’ He’d given me orgasms when we were making out, heavy petting and all that, and then we finally ‘did it’ and it was…meh.”

  “I think first times are usually like that.”

  “Was yours?”

  “No. But it was fast. Thankfully, it wasn’t her first time, so I don’t think she held it against me.”

  “Want to know the worst part?”

  He shifted and looked down at her. “What?”

  “I stayed with him. For ten years. And it never got better.”

  He’d known that she was inexperienced, she’d said as much, and obviously since they were playing out all these fantasies she’d never tried, her sex life hadn’t been particularly varied, but that she’d stayed with one guy, a guy who sucked in bed, just made him mad.

  Not at her, but at the man. He should have given more. If you had a woman like Evie in your life for ten years, why wouldn’t you give more? Why wouldn’t you do what you could to keep her?

  He shoved the thought aside as soon as it entered his mind. Nice of him to judge, since he had no intention of keeping Evie. But that was about him, not her.

  “He made me feel like there was something wrong with me, and honestly, I mainly stayed with him out of habit. I didn’t love him. But the way he treated me still changed me, and I hate that. I hate it. I never even got to know what I liked in bed, or what I liked in men because I tied myself to Jason when I was seventeen and stayed.”

  “You don’t seem like the kind of person to accept blah, Evie, I have to say. Look at how accomplished you are in your job.”

  “I know. But I think that’s partly why. My work was what I really loved. I wanted to be successful and I sort of thought, great, personal life sorted, and onto the main event. But he…he hated it all. Not right at first, because he sure loved the money. But he said it marginalized him. To have a girlfriend who was so much more successful.”

  “What did he want from you?”

  “Honestly? I think he wanted out, but like me wasn’t willing to make the move. Or maybe I’m giving him too much credit. Maybe he wanted me to quit working, be his stay-at-home housewife while he spent the money I already made. Either way, he ended up cheating on me…and blaming me. But it was the best thing that ever happened to me really.”

  “When was that?”

  “Six months ago. And when I saw you…well, I thought it was the perfect chance to explore some of what I’d missed. To figure out who I am apart from Jason, who is afraid of oral sex.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, not of me giving it to him. But he sure as hell never wanted to do it for me. Though, he did it for her. Bastard.”

  “Some men do not deserve for women—for anyone—to give them free rein over their naked bodies. You have to respect a gift like that. Cherish it. Bend it over a desk in the office.” She laughed. “I love that about you.”

  The L-word on her lips made his chest do something weird and tight. “What?”

  “That you’re this total playboy, and you own it. But that you do, you respect the gift. You’ve never taken advantage of me. You always make sure I’m satisfied.”

  “I don’t have a lot of gifts, but I’m good in bed.”

  “That’s not true.”

  He smiled. “I’m not good in bed?”

  “That you don’t have a lot of gifts,” she said. Her expression went all serious and she smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “Tell me something about you.”

  “There isn’t much. I’m from a rich family. Had a nice house. Anything I wanted. My first car cost more than most people make in a year. I think that led to my basically dissolute lifestyle.”

  “Serious relationships?”

  “Nope.”

  “Brothers or sisters?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. There was no easy answer to this question. Say yes and they asked what she was doing. Say no and it felt like a lie.

  “Yeah,” he said, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Why was it still so hard to say? Ten years later it should be easier. And in some ways it was. He didn’t cry about it at weird times anymore. But he still didn’t like to talk about her. He preferred to just forget. Which was what he normally did.

  “Younger or older?”

  “Older.” Jill had a birthday coming up. But she wouldn’t actually be around to age. He was older now than Jill had been when she’d died. So he wondered if that was true, if she was technically older.

  Shit, what a weird thought. This was why he didn’t think about it. Jill wasn’t any age now. Jill was just dead.

  “What does she—”

  He rolled over and kissed her, because it was way too intimate of a thing to have this discussion naked and in bed with the woman he was screwing. He didn’t do connections; he didn’t do sharing and hugging time.

  He wasn’t about to start now.

  “We were talking,” she said, breathless.

  “I know, but I want to do this instead.”

  “You always want to do this.”

  He laughed and ignored the uncomfortable weight that settled in his chest. “And you’re complaining?”

  “Not really.” He kissed her again. “Good.” Then again. And again until nothing else mattered but this. But the two of them and this bed and this moment.

  And when they were done, she got up, got dressed, kissed him goodbye and left him alone in his bed. Just like he liked it. Dammit.

  “If you like it so much, why are you so miserable?” he asked into his pillow.

  Unsurprisingly, there was no answer. Because, like always, he was alone.

  Chapter Eight

  She went to Caleb’s house every night for two weeks, and never stayed. And it was starting to bother her. Which was silly, because he’d made it very clear what his rules were. And she really, in many cases, didn’t mind following his rules. Taking his orders…whatever.

  But this was starting to feel sad. Every time she dressed to leave his house, it was worse and worse. And she was sleep deprived. She didn’t manage to leave his place until the early hours of the morning, then she had to drive home, and try to settle down and go to sleep. She was getting an average of three hours sleep a night and she was starting to climb the walls.

  The alternative was asking to use one of his extra bedrooms so she could stay the night. But that seemed even worse.

  Hey, I know I can’t sleep with you, but could I crash on your couch? Oh, and thanks for the orgasms, by the way. Maybe tomorrow you can tie me up? Or perhaps I could interest you in some afternoon delight in a semi-public location?

  No. No no no. She liked a little kink with her pleasure, it turned out, but humiliation was off the table.

  At least humiliation in that context. Sexually, she’d ruled very few things out. She was self-discovering, after all.

  Though, none of this would be a problem soon. Because she’d finished the app. She hadn’t told him yet. Which was silly, and immature, but the minute she told him…he would be done working in her office. Their affair time would be over. She wasn’t ready yet.

  Soon, but not yet.

  It was a Saturday, so she hadn’t seen him yet today, and the anticipation had her all sweaty. Well, that and the little gesture she’d come bearing.

  She tightened her grip on the picnic basket in her hand—packed by her favorite restaurant—and pushed the doorbell, waiting for Caleb to come.

  He wasn’t going to
like her bringing food. She could sense that already. He seemed to try and cut their personal interactions short. They saw each other in the office, he made noise about looking at her app, and in truth he’d had some very good ideas.

  Caleb seemed to understand the client a little better than she did, which, considering the client was women who subscribed to a women’s magazine, that was a little sad, but whatever. And his suggestions had been very valuable.

  He was smart, even if he did do his best to play it down. She wasn’t sure why he did that. The more she got to know him, the more confused by the playboy-reprobate-lazy-rich-boy thing he had going.

  Because he was more than that, even if he tried desperately to not let her see it.

  The door opened and she smiled widely, holding up the basket. “I brought food.”

  His gaze flicked over her, that perfected air of cool interest not fooling her for a bit. He wanted her, and he was dying to get her naked. She was confident in that. More than that, she could see it.

  For some reason the veneer seemed extra false. Like being suddenly conscious of a painted backdrop in an old film, and then not being able to see anything else.

  Caleb Anderson was full of shit. And she knew it. Had known it for a while, really. And yet it had only just become clear to her how false, how brittle, his playboy facade was.

  “Can I come in or what?” she asked.

  “Sure. What’s in the basket?”

  “Just food. Not handcuffs. Don’t get excited.”

  “I can work with food.”

  “I’m sure you can work with anything,” she said, walking past him and into the house. “But first, eat.”

  “All right, let’s go to the table.”

  “I brought a blanket,” she said.

  “For?”

  “An indoor picnic.” Suddenly the idea seemed stupid. It had seemed fine while she was getting it all together. It had seemed like happy times, smiles and sex and floor. But now Caleb was looking at her like she’d grown a third boob and she was starting to feel like she’d made some grave misstep.