Skye

 

Saturday night and I’m getting ready for my night out dancing with my sister Valentina. She may be as single as I am, but the difference between us is three years and a biological clock that’s clanging like a church bell.

I’ve just finished putting primer on my face when my phone chimes from my bed. Expecting it to be Val, I sit down and open my messages.

Cohen—What are you doing tonight? Want to come to the driving range with us? The wives are going.

Skye—I’m getting ready to go out.

Cohen—To Throb with your sister?

My lips turn up into a wry grin as I look down at my phone.

Skye—See! Sometimes men do listen.

Cohen—Where are you?

Skye—Sitting on my bed in a towel with my phone in my hand.

I watch the messaging screen. Those three dots flashing left to right then stopping… then starting again… as if my partner who’s never short of a comeback is lost for words.

Cohen—Are you going out like that?

A snort escapes my mouth. I fall back down on the bed, and an idea comes to mind. Looking down to check my towel is still clasped around my chest, I snap a photo from my neck down and, without a second thought, send it through to him.

He doesn’t make me wait for long.

Cohen—Felt like providing proof?

Skye—I didn’t think guys complained about receiving proof of near-nakedness.

Cohen—Thought we were supposed to be behaving ourselves, brat?

Skye—Jeez, it’s not like I pulled my towel off in an ‘I felt yours, so here’s mine’ gesture. You really need to learn to relax, Cohen Patrick Cook.

Cohen—Is this a quid pro quo deal?

Skye—I wouldn’t complain if it was. I bet you’d really like seeing mine uncovered too. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it when I was in my workout gear.

Cohen—You’re killing me here.

Skye—I’ll stop then. I don’t have the time or patience to train up someone else to replace you.

Cohen—Ha ha. You think you trained me?

Skye—At least you don’t use the front of the bus as a trash can now.

Cohen—You’re messier than I am!

Skye—I use a trash bag. You used to use the floor!

Cohen—God, you really sound like a work wife.

Skye—Exactly. Why do you think I introduce myself as that?

Cohen—So back to the towel…are you wearing that out?

Skye—I’m not sure the bouncers at Throb would let me in.

Cohen—You’re really going to Throb?

Skye—That’s where Valentina wants to go. Why?

Cohen—It’s a meat market.

Skye—Maybe I’m in a carnivorous mood.

Cohen—You need a ride?

Skye—I thought that option was off the table?

Cohen—I did that to myself, didn’t I?

Skye—You kind of do a lot of things to yourself. Especially when you don’t take people up on their offers to help…

Those annoying three dots appear again. Stopping and starting. Then they disappear, and after a minute of no reply and no more pesky dots on my screen, I decide not to wait for an answer. I leave my phone on my bed and return to my dressing table, taking a seat, and deciding what I should do about my hair and makeup.

When my phone starts ringing, I press accept, not registering that it’s a request for a video call until the camera turns on, and Co’s face fills the screen.

This means he instantly gets an eyeful of my bright blue lacy bra and barely-there underwear. I’m showing a whole lot of skin.

“Uh… wow… um… okay… that’s not what I was expecting.”

Guess I have to just roll with this now. “Uh… yeah, I answered your video call accidentally.”

“In your underwear?”

“We don’t usually video call, Co. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I thought I’d try something new. Didn’t think it would be this new, though,” he says quietly. He looks so… awkward, or maybe conflicted is a better description.

I decide to cut him some slack. I never want him to feel uncomfortable. “Give me a second, and I’ll cover up.”

Then I see it. A spark in his eyes. A glimpse of the cocky, confident Cohen with the swagger that held my attention the first day I met him. “No need to put the goods away when they’re already out of the box.”

“That’s not my box. This is my…” I tilt my camera down.

“Dammit, brat. You’re really making this hard for me.”

“I bet,” I reply with a smirk.

He narrows his eyes, but I note he doesn’t look away, and that alone sends a rush through me.

A comfortable silence stretches down the line as we stare at each other through the phone screen.

His lips quirk. “Would you like me to drive you and Val downtown?”

Now, that’s not what I expected. “I’m a big girl, Co. I’m even old enough to drink,” I say, puffing out my chest and earning a groan.

”Not helping, Skye,” he grinds out, the heat in his gaze as clear as day. “I just figured I could drop you both in and save you the hassle and cost of a cab.”

“That sounds very big brother-ish of you, but we’ll be okay.”

He rolls his eyes. “With you wearing that and looking like that, I’m not feeling even remotely brotherly toward you, Skye. But I think you know that.”

I can’t help the wry smile that grows on my lips. Cohen’s narrowed gaze says he hasn’t missed it either.

He lifts a single brow in a move that shouldn’t be sexy, but damn it, it gets something stirring inside me. “Are you sure you didn’t answer this call on purpose?”

“What if I did?”

He shakes his head, and the adorable, almost boyishly coy look he gives me has me equally melting and clenching my thighs. God, I wish I could work this tension out of my system.

“And how exactly would you like to do that?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, deeper. Shit, I said that out loud! Oh well, I’m gonna run with it.

His eyes are hooded as a rustling sound fills the air when he moves to lie on his couch.

“Are you getting comfortable?” I ask curiously.

“I suddenly like the direction of this conversation, so yes, I’m now lying on my couch, waiting to see where you take this.”

Who is this man, and where is my partner who is usually wound up tight whenever he’s around me?

“Co…” I say softly.

He chuckles. “Yes, brat?”

“You’re acting strange. It’s kind of throwing me for a loop,” I say, honestly.

“You’re the one who’s thrown me. I’m not supposed to be feeling things when I’m around you.”

Whoa. Now, this is definitely an unexpected—and not at all unwelcome—development. “Why the change of heart?”

“Believe me, brat, it’s not my heart leading the way, and I blame you.”

“Does that mean you’re going to come upstairs and do something about it?”

He shakes his head with a playful smile. “Not yet. That would be too easy. Too quick.”

“I can play hard to get and make it slow,” I say. I sound like a pent-up hussy in need of a dick to ride, when in actuality, all I want is Cohen Cook looking at me the way he’s doing right now.

He groans so rough and low. I swear I can feel it.

“You’re driving me crazy, especially wearing lace the color of your eyes that’s now burned into my brain. As much as I would like to take you up on your offer to work out this tension, there’s a lot at stake.”

I shrug. “The verbal foreplay works for me, Co. It’ll tide me over until you can’t stop yourself from joining me on the dark side.”

He laughs, his half-grin filling the screen. “Do you think you’re going to corrupt me? I’ll have you know, little girl, that I’ve been known to do my own corrupting when given the chance.”

I bite my lip, closing my eyes and letting myself enjoy the images conjured up from his words.

I’m definitely going to need a shower now, and it won’t just be to get clean.

“I need to go,” I say, sounding far too affected.

“Have a good night,” he says.

“I will. You too.”

“And if you need a ride home later, flick me a text. If I’m awake, I can pick you guys up.”

“Thanks. I might take you up on that if we decide to have an early night.”

“Don’t do anyone I wouldn’t do,” he adds, a knowing grin appearing.

He stares into my eyes then gifts me the sexiest grin and a knowing wink before ending the call.

Unable to wipe the smile off my face, I return to the task of getting ready to be my sister’s wing-woman.

I strip naked and walk into the bathroom. I’ve barely turned the water on when the showerhead flies off, hitting the tiles opposite, a shooting makeshift fountain appears, wetting everything everywhere.

“Dammit,” I shriek, quickly grabbing the controls and shutting it off.

A quick glance in the mirror has me looking more like a drowned rat than a sultry siren. With nothing else to do, I wrap a towel around me, grab my bra, underwear, and phone, and make a beeline out of my apartment and down the stairs.

A minute later, I’m on the ground floor, knocking on his door.

When it swings open, his phone is in his hand, his eyes widening when he sees me before his gaze drifts down to the floor and slowly back up again.

“Shit. Is this a new form of DoorDash? ’Cause if so, sign me up.”

“Only if you give me more than the tip,” I say, dissolving into a fit of giggles at his gaping mouth. “No, really, I need to steal your bathroom. My showerhead just tried to impale the wall and water was going everywhere. I’ve stopped the tap, but I really need to get ready, so please take pity on your neighbor and tenant and let me use yours?” I say, batting my lashes and shooting him my best puppy-dog eyes.

“Well, shit. Sure.” He steps back and ushers me inside, closing the door behind him. “Want me to take a look while you’re out?”

“It’ll be okay. I’ll just use yours until it can be fixed,” I say with a wry grin.

His eyes are full of amusement. “Oh, really?”

“Why else do I keep you around?”

He barks out a laugh. “You keep me around, do you?”

“Yep.”

He shrugs and shakes his head at me, his gaze locked with mine. The longer he looks at me with hungry desire in his eyes, the more likely it becomes that self-combustion could be my demise.

“Ah… so this shower,” I say, quirking a brow. “Want to save the planet?”

A lascivious smirk plays at his lips. “Is this a ruse to get naked in my apartment?”

I tilt my head. “Is that all it would take?”

His eyes narrow, an almost indiscernible growl rumbling from his chest.

I have to bite my lip to stop myself from grinning like the Cheshire cat, knowing he’s so easy to rile up—in all the ways I want to rile him up. It’s also to stop a tell-tale moan from giving away how much turning him on turns me on.

“What was the question again?” he says.

“I’m just going to make my way to your bathroom and get naked. Is that okay with you?” My lips twitch as his eyes glaze over. It seems the word naked coming out of my lips has an effect on him. “Co… the bathroom?”

“Off my bedroom.”

“Is it okay if I get dressed in there?”

“Yup. Yes. Sure,” he says, nodding incessantly, his gaze drifting up and down and over my still towel-clad body.

“I’ll be quick, I promise.” I take a step toward Co, lean in, and with a hand on his shoulder, press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper before walking toward his bedroom. I stop and lean my front against the doorframe, locking eyes with him. “Co?”

“Yeah?” he says. His voice is rough and strained, his body strung tight as if he’s fighting to stay where he is. I take a very small moment to revel in the fact I make him feel that way. He looks like a fuse that’s ready to blow. I wonder how much longer he’s going to hold out on me for—and hold out on himself, too.

I hungrily roam my eyes over his face, his strong, broad shoulders, his muscular arms that are the perfect size to grab hold of and dig your nails in while he… yeah…

He slowly advances toward me. “Are you sure you have to go out?”

A satisfied smile curls my lips. “I really am. You’re welcome to save the environment though.” He stills, his brows bunching together. I decide to make my proposition crystal clear. “You know, save the environment, shower together…” I leave that idea hanging between us.

“Brat, what are you—”

I take a deep breath, lift my hand and drop my towel, giving him a clear-as-day side-on view of my bare skin, his scorching gaze takes me in, leaving goosebumps covering my skin in its wake. It’s got nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with all of the things I want to do to this man.

“Fuck,” he rasps, so rough and guttural I swear I feel it imprint inside of me.

With one last look, I push off the wall and make my way into Cohen’s bathroom, not bothering to shut the door behind me.

I quickly wash and stand under the water, my eyes glued to the shower curtain and hoping—desperately so—that Cohen gives in to this thing between us.

Lusting after my best friend, remembering how he felt pressed against me on the couch, filing away how hot our kiss was, and the potential for mind-bending orgasms, can drive a red-blooded woman like me to extreme measures.

I thank the universe for doing me a solid. If the showerhead hadn’t blown off, I wouldn’t have had a need to be here or the opportunity to tempt the man I desperately hope takes me up on my offer. I made the offer. I’ve made it crystal clear I’d like him to join me. Now the ball is in his court.

I know he wants me—that’s become increasingly obvious—and I definitely want him, and if blue bean is a thing, then I’m rapidly becoming the poster child for it.

Except he doesn’t join me.

He doesn’t even come into the bathroom.

So I turn the shower off, grab one of his towels from the rail, and dry myself. I quickly put on my bra, knickers, and one of his tees, which I nabbed from the top of his bed.

I walk out into the living room, determined to find out what exactly is going on.

“Cass, I think we need to ta—” I stop dead.

Because it’s not just Cohen standing there looking at me. I also find Bryant, Faith, and Abi.

Well, damn.