Something smelled delicious,like spice and heat. I wanted to wrap it around me like a blanket.
I snuggled closer to the source, enjoying the strong, solid warmth beneath my cheek. I didn’t want to wake up, but I’d promised Bridget I would volunteer at a local pet shelter with her this morning, before my afternoon shift at the gallery.
I allowed myself one more minute of coziness—had my bed always been this big and soft—before I opened my eyes and yawned.
Weird. My room looked different. No photograph prints papering the walls, no vase of sunflowers by the bed. And did my bed just move by itself?
My eyes latched onto the broad expanse of bare skin beneath me, and my stomach dropped. I looked up, up—straight into a pair of familiar green eyes. Eyes that stared back at me with no hint of the humor from last night.
He flicked his gaze down. I followed it…and realized, to my abject horror, that I was touching Alex Volkov’s dick. Unintentionally, and he had on sweats, but still.
I. Was. Touching. Alex. Volkov’s. Dick.
And it was hard.
Mortification washed over me in a tidal wave. Move your hand. Move it now! My brain screamed, and I wanted to. I really did. But I stayed frozen, paralyzed by shock and humiliation and something else I would rather not name.
A brief image flashed through my mind of what Alex must be packing beneath his pants. I had a feeling—pun intended—it would rival that of any male porn star.
“Please remove your hand from my cock unless you plan on doing something with it,” Alex said coolly.
I finally yanked my hand away and scrambled back, my heart beating a wild rhythm in my chest as I tried to get my bearings.
“What happened? Why am I here? Did we—did you and I—” I gestured between us, sick with anticipation.
Oh, God, Josh would kill me, and I couldn’t even blame him.
I’d slept with my brother’s best friend.
Shit!
“Relax.” Alex rolled out of bed, lithe and graceful as a panther. Sunlight streamed through the windows and illuminated his sculpted frame, casting his perfectly carved chest and abs in a pale glow. “You fell asleep during that dog movie and it was raining, so I brought you up here. The end.”
“So we didn’t…”
“Fuck? No.”
“Oh, thank God.” I pressed a hand to my forehead, relief a cool balm to the heat on my cheeks. “That would’ve been awful.”
“I’ll try not to take offense to that,” Alex said dryly.
“You know what I mean. Josh would’ve murdered us, brought us back to clean up the mess, then murdered us again. Not that I want to sleep with you either way.” Liar, an annoying voice in my head whispered. I shoved it aside. “You’re not my type.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “No? Then who, pray tell, is your type?”
It was too early for this. “Um…” I scrambled to think of a safe answer. “Ian Somerhalder?”
He let out a derisive snort. “Better than the sparkly vampire,” he muttered. “Newsflash, Sunshine, you and Ian aren’t happening.”
I rolled my eyes and got out of bed, flinching when I saw my reflection in the mirror. Wrinkled dress, tangled hair, pillow creases on my cheek, and was that a line of crusted drool on the side of my lips? Yeah, I wouldn’t win a beauty contest anytime soon.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I said, discreetly wiping the drool from my face while Alex pulled a T-shirt over his head. His bedroom was as sparse as the living room, with nothing except his massive bed, a nightstand with a lamp and alarm clock, and a dresser decorating the space. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m not your type either, remember? Or maybe I am…” I raised my eyebrows at the obvious tent in his pants.
He wanted to be a jerk again? Two could play this game.
“Don’t read too much into it. It’s morning wood. Every guy gets it.” Alex ran a hand through his hair, which of course was still perfect after a night’s sleep. “And my panties are not in a twist.”
“If you say so,” I sang. “Also, stop calling me Sunshine.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not my name.”
“I’m aware. It’s a nickname.”
I released an exasperated breath. “We don’t know each other well enough for nicknames.”
“We’ve known each other for eight years.”
“Yes, but we don’t have that type of relationship! Plus, I’m sure you’re mocking me, bleeding heart and all.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me. What type of relationship do we have?”
We were treading dangerous ground. “We’re neighbors. Friendly acquaintances.” I racked my brain for more because those terms didn’t seem right. “Movie buddies?”
He closed the distance between us, and I gulped, holding my ground even though I wanted to run. “You always sleep in the same bed as your acquaintances?” he asked softly.
“I didn’t ask to sleep in the same bed as you.” I tried not to stare at the region below his waist, but it was difficult to ignore. My nipples hardened and scraped against my bra, and my skin flushed with arousal.
What the hell was happening? This was Alex, for Pete’s sake. The Antichrist. The asshole. The robot.
Except my body must’ve not gotten the memo, because I was suddenly fantasizing about pushing him on the bed and finishing what my hand had inadvertently started earlier.
No. Get it together. You are not sleeping with Alex Volkov, now or ever.
“Anyway, I—I have to go. Volunteer. Pets,” I stammered, barely making sense to myself. “Thanksforlettingmestayoverseeyoulaterbye!”
I beat a hasty retreat down the stairs and ran home.
I needed a cold shower, ASAP.
PHASE SADNESS STATUS: FAILED
* * *
“You touched Alex’s dick?”Bridget’s eyes widened. “What did it feel like?”
“Shhh!” I glanced around to see if anyone was listening, but everyone was too busy with their duties to pay attention to us. Bridget had volunteered at the shelter long enough the staff didn’t blink an eye at the princess in their midst, and we were always the only volunteers on the days Bridget came in, per the royal family’s request. “It’s unbecoming for a princess to say the word dick.”
Especially in Bridget’s posh, lightly accented voice, which sounded like it was made to discuss fancy galas and Harry Winston diamonds, not male genitalia.
“I’ve said worse things than dick.”
As someone who’d been friends with her for almost four years, I could confirm. It still sounded wrong though.
“So?” she prompted. “What did it feel like?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say. It felt like a penis.” A big, hard—nope. Not going there.
Not now. Not ever.
Bridget and I were cleaning and sanitizing the cages at Wags and Whiskers, a pet rescue shelter located near campus. She was a huge animal person and had been volunteering here since sophomore year. I accompanied her when I had time, as did Stella. Jules was allergic to cats, so she stayed away. But this shelter was Bridget’s baby. She came twice a week without fail, much to Booth’s consternation.
I stifled a smile at the sight of the burly, redheaded bodyguard eyeing a parrot with suspicion. Despite its name, Wags and Whiskers took in all sorts of animals, not just cats and dogs, and it had a small but robust bird section.
Booth wasn’t scared of birds per se, but he disliked them; he said they reminded him of giant flying rats.
“Hmm.” Bridget seemed disappointed by my uninteresting response. “And the movies really didn’t make him sad? At all?”
“Nope.” I rolled up the newspaper from my cage and dumped it in the garbage can. “Well, I fell asleep before the end of Marley & Me, but I doubt he cried or anything like that. He looked bored the entire time.”
“Yet he continued watching both movies.” Bridget raised a perfect blonde brow. “Interesting.”
“He didn’t have a choice. I was already at his house.”
“Please. This is Alex Volkov we’re talking about. He’d throw someone out in a heartbeat if he wanted.”
True.
I frowned and considered her words. “He’s nicer to me because I’m Josh’s sister.”
“Right.” Bridget let out a soft laugh. “Which phase is up next again?”
Ugh, the stupid Operation Emotion, or OE as I’d started calling it. It was the bane of my existence.
“Disgust.” I had no clue what I’d do, but that phase seemed easier. I had a feeling lots of things disgusted Alex.
“I’d pay good money to see that.” Bridget tossed a laughing glance in Booth’s direction. “Are you all right, Booth?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” He grimaced when the parrot squawked, “Ooh, yes! Spank me, master!”
“I am not your master,” he told the bird. “Go away.”
The parrot drew itself up and ruffled its feathers in indignation.
Bridget and I burst into laughter. Apparently, the parrot’s old owner had been quite active sexually…and kinky. Its outburst today was tame compared to its previous tirades.
“I’ll miss you.” Bridget sighed. “I hope my next bodyguard has a sense of humor.”
I stopped scrubbing the cage. “Wait, what? Booth, you’re leaving us?”
Booth scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “My wife is giving birth soon, so I’ll be on paternity leave.”
“Congrats.” I smiled, even though I was pretty sad. He was Bridget’s employee, but we’d accepted him as an honorary member of our group. He’d bailed us out of many dodgy situations in the past, and he gave pretty good boy advice, too. “We’ll miss you, but that is so exciting!”
His face flushed with pleasure. “Thank you, Miss Ava.”
He was unfailingly polite and insisted on calling me “Miss” no matter how many times I told him he could use just my first name.
“We’re throwing you a going away party when the time comes,” Bridget said. “You deserve it for putting up with me all these years.”
Booth’s blush deepened. “That’s not necessary, Your Highness. It was—is—a pleasure serving at your side.”
Bridget’s eyes twinkled. “See, this is why you deserve a going away party. You’re the best.”
Before Booth could explode from how red he was turning, I added, “We’ll make it parrot themed.”
Bridget and I collapsed into laughter again while the bodyguard shook his head with a half-resigned, half-embarrassed smile.
It was almost enough to take my mind off Alex.
