Part 7 (2/2)
”So, why are you dressed?”
”Eating in bed doesn't mean I have to eat naked, does it? I eat in bed all the time, and I'm always dressed. I wanted to get comfortable. Besides, it's dangerous to eat naked.”
”Dangerous?”
Nick pulled the sheet and blanket up to his waist and then covered the family jewels with a pillow. He admitted, if only to himself, that eating naked at Rosalie's was indeed dangerous, not to mention a team sport.
She picked a pepper off her slice and fed it to Dave, who lay between them. Dave smacked his dripping lips and groaned in pleasure, moving his head from Rosalie's thigh to Nick's. Dave's eyebrows rose in a silent plea without moving his head. His d.a.m.n head must weigh 15 pounds, Nick thought, feeling like he had a cinder block on his thigh. No wonder Dave needed to rest it.
Nick picked a piece of Canadian bacon off his slice and flipped it toward Dave, who raised his head to make the catch and swallowed the piece whole. Nick only heard the slap of jowls and the gulp.
”Don't feed Dave human food. It's not good for him.” Rosalie licked her fingers and shrugged. ”You forgot to get napkins.”
Nick swallowed a groan, thankful the pillow hid his somewhat surprising erection. It had been, what, forty minutes? And one lick of her finger had the bad boy standing at attention. He cleared his throat and took a sip of beer. ”You tossed him a pepper.”
Rosalie sank back into the pillows resting against the headboard of her iron bed.
”Vegetables are okay. They're healthy.”
She bit into the pizza and caught threads of melted cheese that stretched from her mouth to the slice between the fingers she had licked. Tilting her head back, she dropped them in her mouth. Nick had never before considered eating pizza erotic.
Dave raked his paw across the pillow on Nick's lap in an apparent plea for more.
Rosalie patted the pillow. ”Told you it was dangerous. Do you want to put on your jeans?”
”Jeans wouldn't cut it. I'd need a cup at the very least.” Besides, he doubted he'd be able to zip the d.a.m.n jeans up now.
”Speaking of cups.” Rosalie reached into the drawer of her bedside table and rummaged around. Did she have a cup stashed in there? h.e.l.l, it looked as if she had everything else. She searched the covers surrounding her and slid her hand under his pillow-not the one on his lap, d.a.m.n.
”You're not lying on my remote, are you? I want to catch the score. Islanders are facing off against the Flyers tonight.”
”You're more than welcome to look, but you'd better be careful. I guarantee you'll miss the game if you check under any more of my pillows.”
Rosalie snorted and ran her hand under Dave, continuing her search. Dave groaned and rolled over onto his back, his jowls flopping open, exposing a set of impressive teeth. She scratched his belly and found his tickle spot. Dave rolled onto his side and kicked Nick with increasing speed. He not only kicked Nick, but sent the pillow on Nick's lap and the empty pizza box flying.
”Oops.” She pulled the slice of pizza Nick was biting into out of his mouth, leaned over Dave, and bussed a kiss on Nick's cheek. ”Sorry.”
Rosalie didn't return his pizza, not that he cared. It wasn't as if he was still hungry-at least, not for pizza. She rolled on her stomach to search under the bed. Nick lay back and enjoyed the view of her rather spectacular posterior. If only she hadn't covered it in flannel.
All the movement proved too much for Dave. He extracted himself by walking over Nick and jumping off the bed.
For the second time that day, Dave knocked the air out of Nick. He tried to breathe as pain radiated through him. Dave was not only a guard dog, but also an excellent form of birth control. Permanent birth control.
”d.a.m.n, I can never find anything when I need it.” Rosalie scanned the room and there, lying on top of the TV, was the remote. Of all the stupid places to put a remote control, that had to be the worst. Nick grunted. He must have seen the remote the same time she had. One of them had to get it. She turned to sweet-talk him into it, but his color had turned as white as newly fallen snow before rush hour, and his mouth hung open as he gasped for air.
”What's the matter? Oh, no! Dave didn't. Did he? He did. Oh, Nick. I'm so sorry. Here, let me see...”
Nick groaned again and held the covers tight over his lap. The look he gave her was anything but welcoming. Okay, that was the wrong thing to say.
Nick took a deep breath and released it. His color returned, though his mouth still hung open like a big fish on dry land.
She considered offering to kiss it and make it better. But the way he looked, even that wouldn't help.
The best remedy for an ailing man is chicken soup and control of the remote. In this case, Rosalie doubted chicken soup would cut it, but beer sounded like a good bet. She climbed out of bed, plumped his pillows, handed him the remote, and kicked Dave out of the bedroom before getting Nick a beer. If he didn't want to drink it, he could always use it as a cold compress.
Nick made an amazing recovery while they watched the game and seemed to like hockey as much as she did. Rosalie was thankful that Nick learned quickly not to crowd her. It was hard to cuss out a ref when you were tucked under someone's arm, and it was impossible to do hand gestures.
She turned off the set when the post-game commentary began. It had been painful enough watching the Flyers annihilate the Islanders 5-1. No need to subject herself to more torture.
As if witnessing the slaughter hadn't been bad enough, Rosalie had another problem to deal with. It was ten o'clock, and Nick was still in her bed. The bed she slept in alone. She stretched and yawned, hoping Nick would take the hint and hit the road. Oh, G.o.d. What if he wanted to stay over? How could she ask him to leave without sounding as if she were asking him to leave? One more reason to go to a guy's place-she could leave when she wanted. Well, except with Nick. He'd insist on taking her home, and they'd be back in her bed. Together.
They both spoke at the same time. Whew, what a relief. Rosalie really didn't want to say, ”Nick, it's been fun, but I'd like you to leave now so I can get to sleep.”
”Sorry, Nick, you go first.”
”No, after you.”
Oh, no, you don't. ”Um... I forgot what I was going to say. You go ahead.” Ha.
Talk about awkward. There was nothing worse than the morning after or, in this case, the evening after a first s.e.xual encounter. Both parties are uber-polite until they get used to the idea that they've seen each other naked, or one of them leaves. Rosalie wasn't used to the idea and might never be, which meant it was time for him to go.
Nick smiled and took her hand. He looked as uncomfortable now as he had when Dave did the cha-cha on his privates.
”I have a staff meeting before we open tomorrow, so I have to take off. I'm sorry.”
”No problem. I've got to get in early, too. I didn't accomplish much today.” Rosalie tried to cover her feeling of utter relief better than Nick had hid his discomfort. He looked at her as if she'd grown another head. Gee, guess she'd failed.
Rosalie helped Nick find his clothes. She'd thrown his jacket on the floor beside the bed and thought his s.h.i.+rt might have gone in the direction of the treadmill, which, like all treadmills, had morphed into a large clothes hanger. His pants and boxers, thank G.o.d, were within his reach.
By the time Rosalie found his s.h.i.+rt, he'd b.u.t.toned his jeans. Somehow, she resisted the urge to run her hands over his chest and stomach once more. Who knew muscles could feel so good? The man could do an infomer-cial for a weight machine.
She tried to act as if they'd had dinner together without an appetizer of white-hot, multi-o.r.g.a.s.mic s.e.x. Because really, what could she say? Thanks for the o.r.g.a.s.ms? Having no set precedent for such a situation, she felt as if she were walking blindfolded though a minefield.
Nick finished dressing while she picked up the pizza box and beer bottles and took them to the kitchen. No, she wasn't practicing avoidance. She was keeping busy and straightening up the apartment like she did all the time. Right.
Nick never spent the night at a girlfriend's place because it was much more difficult to avoid making plans while in bed or in the shower together. There was always that question she'd sneak in when his brain was concentrating on s.e.x. In between the ”Oh yeah, baby,” and ”d.a.m.n, that was good!” she'd throw in something like, ”Would you like to meet my parents for lunch?” and all he heard was ”yada-yada-yada.” The next thing he knew, her old man would be grilling him on his intentions and his portfolio (though not necessarily in that order); her mother would be saying how beautiful their children would be; and he'd find himself hurtling at breakneck speed down the aisle toward matrimonial h.e.l.l.
Nick checked his reflection in the mirror. This non-relations.h.i.+p with Rosalie was unlike any other he'd ever experienced. He'd never told a girl he couldn't spend the night without her trying to talk him into staying. He'd seen everything from pouting to bitter anger. Rosalie was the first to look relieved. h.e.l.l, truth be told, she looked as if she couldn't wait for him to go. He should be thrilled. Finally, a woman who followed his rules.
Yeah, this was good.
He scanned the items on her dresser: a shoe with a broken heel; jewelry-nothing expensive, more unusual, funky; a bra and a thong like the one she'd worn the other night; and perfume. He picked up the square, red bottle and sniffed. Her scent. Gold lettering caught his eye- Trouble. Trouble. How apropos. Nick returned the perfume to its place, shook his head at the irony, grabbed his jacket, and left the bedroom. How apropos. Nick returned the perfume to its place, shook his head at the irony, grabbed his jacket, and left the bedroom.
Rosalie was waiting next to the bar separating the kitchen from the dining area, s.h.i.+fting her weight from foot to foot. Nick slid into his jacket and closed the distance between them. She had a recently ravished look that brought back memories of them doing several things he'd like to repeat.
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