Page 37 of Trick
“My balls are always bouncing, my ballroom always full, and everybody comes and comes again.”
Apparently giving zero-fucks that he couldn’t carry a tune, Trick sang with gusto as he belted out the lyrics to an AC/DC song that had been a hit at least two decades before either of us had been born.
He was so committed to his performance that he even used an inflection on some words – sort of a strange hybrid of posh, upper crust Brit mixed with Australian – in a poor imitation of the band’s lead singer.
He would be lucky if Bon Scott didn’t come back from the great beyond to haunt his ass for butchering the song so badly.
Elvis, roused from his bed in the corner of the room, jumped up on my bed and stared at me with his back arched and his tail standing straight up.
There was no mistaking the “what the fuck?” look on his face as his whiskers twitched when Trick hit a particularly flat note.
I pulled the sheet up over my face and giggled uncontrollably as Trick finished with a flourish.
“I’ve got big balls, dirty big balls, but we’ve got the biggest balls of them all.”
The musical assault on my ears stopped at the same time as the shower turned off, and my laughter died out as I pictured Trick reaching for a towel, with droplets of water running down over his wide shoulders, tight abs, and then lower.
My naughty imagination was interrupted again, this time by Elvis. He pounced on me, landing on my stomach as he made his displeasure known. Loudly.
Sadly, his yowling was more melodic than Trick’s singing had been.
“All right, I’m getting up,” I muttered, scooting him off the bed so I could fling back the covers. Since I slept in only a tank top and panties, I needed to take a few minutes to pull on some clothes. I reluctantly reached for a bra, hating to strap myself into one this early but knowing that I didn’t dare walk around in front of Trick free-boobing it. My nipples would be standing up and waving hello if I did.
I finger-combed my curls in a futile effort to tame them, before giving up and piling my hair on top of my head in the messiest of messy buns.
“It’s not like you’re trying to impress him,” I lectured myself sternly.
I left the bedroom a few minutes later, clad in an oversized T-shirt, and a pair of leggings, my glamourous look completed by the gradually fading pillow crease on my right cheek.
I shuffled down the hall to the kitchen, stopping short at the sight of Trick wearing nothing but a towel precariously knotted around his waist as he fixed a cup of coffee.
In that moment, two things became glaringly apparent.
One, I’d been right about my nipples, because they were currently trying to fight their way through the light padding of my bra. And two, a nearly naked Trick – with all that tanned skin on display and only the important bits covered by a towel – was a sight every woman should experience at least once in her life.
Of course, I reminded myself snarkily, at the rate he ran through women, there were probably thousands who’d already had that experience. That thought was enough for me to rein in my wayward libido, for the moment, anyway.
Elvis trotted by, swishing his tail against my leg in a bid to get my attention. I greeted Trick, then studiously ignored him as I filled the cat’s food and water bowls. Elvis, ever the refined feline, tried to snarf down the food mid-air as it dropped into the bowl, as if he hadn’t been fed in a week.
“Morning, babe. I hope you don’t mind, but I helped myself to the coffee. Do you want a cup?”
I started to answer but got distracted when I glanced at him again. I had to force my eyes away from his washboard abs – eight deliciously defined grooves that I wanted to trace with my tongue. The towel rested low on his hips, giving me an incredible view of his Adonis Belt, which I’d never actually seen on a real person.
I snuck another look. Good God, no wonder women turned stupid when they got a look at that V-line. It was like a flashing arrow, pointing straight at his cock.
“Lauren?”
“Huh?” I roused myself out of my Trick-induced stupor just enough to realize that he’d called my name, and probably not for the first time.
“I asked if you wanted any coffee. You were too busy staring to answer me.”
Heat flooded my face as he flashed me a satisfied smirk, and I once again hated the fact that my fair complexion telegraphed my embarrassment so clearly. I had never been able to bluff my way out of humiliating situations because my blushes gave me away every damned time.
“Uh, yeah, coffee would be great, thanks,” I mumbled, making my way over to the cabinet that held the mugs. Trick reached for one at the same time, and our fingers brushed. I couldn’t hide my gasp at the rush of electricity that sparked along my skin.
“I’ll get it for you, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and smooth and too damned sexy for this hour of the morning.
“I have to leave for the gym soon, but Rod is on his way. He’ll keep an eye on things until Brick gets here.”
