Page 63 of The Burbs and the Bees
“What’s that?”
“Don’t let Tyler or Beck know you slept here.” She runs her finger over the bedding. “I don’t want them or anyone to get the wrong idea about us.”
“I don’t want that, either.” I frown and look down. “My mother is a different story. I can’t ever seem to get anything by her. One look at me and she’ll know.”
She purses her lips. “We do kind of have sex written all over us, don’t we?”
“Yeah.”
She gives a curt nod and says, “I better get cleaned up and wash the scent of you from my skin.”
Goddammit, I kind of like the idea of my scent being all over her. Her sweet aroma is all over me, and I wish I was in more of a hurry to scrub it away.
“I’ll take the path and avoid the main house and get a shower before coming back here.” Without thinking, I lean into her and place my lips on hers. I moan against her silky, soft mouth and cup her face like it’s the most natural thing in the world for me to do, but the second I realize she’s not kissing me back, I inch away.
“Oh, shit, sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” Her eyes are narrow, and her brow is furrowed as I try to apologize. “One night, I get it. Honestly, I don’t know why I did that.”
“Jay.”
“Hmm.”
“You know, I was thinking. Maybe we… Well, maybe we can do this again,” she says and plucks at an imaginary piece of lint on the blanket.
“You want to have sex again?” I ask, something niggling inside me, warning it’s not a good idea. My muscles bunch as those alarm bells jingle.
She flips her hand over, palm up, making light of the situation. “I mean, if you don’t, then—”
“I do.”
She laughs at my eagerness, and the sound is light and contagious, easing some of the tension inside of me.
She makes an imaginary mark in the air. “Points for enthusiasm,” she says. “It’s almost like it was on your mind.”
I press my hand to my forehead and think about my hound brother. “Tyler would say, ‘Dude, I’m seventeen; of course all I think about is sex.’ Not sure what my excuse is,” I say, but maybe I already know. Maybe it’s because she’s sweet and vulnerable, not afraid of trying new things, and working her ass off to prove something to someone. I admire her grit; I really do. There is more to this city girl than she lets on. And that, my friends, can’t be good for me.
“Jay.”
“Yeah.”
“Coffee.”
“Right.” I tug my shirt on, and she tsks. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, if you hesitated, I was going to suggest we put that enthusiasm to work.”
I reach behind my back and grip my shirt, but as soon as I do, Cluck lets out a crow. “Dammit. I’d better go before the house wakes up and someone comes calling. Tonight, however, it’s on, Alyson.”
She touches the hem of my shirt. “Don’t you mean it’s off?”
My God, I love her sense of humor. That’s when I remember she said she wanted to write a book. I’m about to ask about it, but Cluck won’t shut up, so I jump up.
“I’ll be back fast.”
She slides from the bed, stark naked, and I damn near bite off my tongue. “Fuck, how do you expect me to leave now?”
She points to the door. “Go. We don’t need rumors started.”
I reluctantly make my exit, and her feet pad down the hall behind me as she makes her way to the bathroom. I dash outside, and the sun is cresting the horizon. I didn’t get much sleep, and I should be far more tired than I am, but this morning, I feel alive, invigorated, something that?
