Dirty Duet (Found in Oblivion Book 3) Read online

  She tapped her fingers against her chin. “There’s a bit more to it than that, but yes. Close enough.” At least for right now.

  She didn’t intend to lie. That was against her code of ethics. Holding some intel back until the moment was better, however? Not lying as far as she was concerned. That was just being smart.

  The guy from behind the counter brought out their pie, along with a couple of paper plates and a hefty stack of napkins. She grinned and inched to the edge of the booth, her mouth already watering.

  Acting inappropriate worked up an appetite.

  “How’s that look to you?” he asked, tilting the round plate toward her first then toward West.

  “It looks great. I might need another one. Thank you so much.” She grabbed the first slice the instant he set down the pan, and she bit her lip as both men laughed. “Whoops. Sorry. I have manners somewhere, I swear.”

  “There are no manners when it comes to good pizza. It’s every lady for herself.” The guy winked at her before clapping West on the shoulder. “When the time comes, think square cut. Timeless.”

  She frowned as West ducked his head. His man-bun—sexy as hell, by the way—wasn’t enough to hide the reddening of his ears.

  “What did he mean? Square cut is just for sheet pizzas. Though I do enjoy those. I’ve always found they taste better than regular ones, but I always figured it had to do with happy memories from childhood—” She stopped and swallowed, transferring the steaming hot piece of pizza from one hand to the other before she lost a layer of skin. “Sorry. Babbling. You can talk now. If you want to.”

  West grinned at her, his momentary embarrassment gone. He grabbed a napkin and leaned forward to cup it under her hand as she transferred her dripping slice to her paper plate. “Go ahead. Don’t hold back on my account.”

  She shrugged and lifted the pizza again, aiming straight for her mouth. A glob of cheese stretched between her lip and the piece, and she went to pull it apart but she wasn’t fast enough. He flicked the cheese free and popped it into his own mouth, licking his thumb in a way that made her suppress a moan.

  And it wasn’t just because this was the best goddamn pizza she’d ever tasted in her life.

  “Are there like…classes for that sort of thing?” she asked once she’d managed to chew and swallow.

  “What thing?” He grabbed his own piece of pizza, then went back for a second, stacking them on top of each other in a haphazard pile. His tongue slicked over his lower lip as he eyed his plate and she clenched in ways she wasn’t sure she ever had before.

  So…Kegel muscles. They were sneaky little buggers, right? Waiting for the moment they’d be called into service. She’d never really paid much attention to them before tonight, but then again she wasn’t normally in a state of arousal severe enough to warrant humping a table.

  She wasn’t there yet, but definitely getting closer.

  “That whole oozing sex appeal deal you just do naturally. You even stare at pizza like you want to fuck it.”

  His head snapped up, his green eyes widening before he laughed. “Ever seen American Pie?”

  “No. Do they fuck a pizza?” At his knowing look, she considered the title of the movie. A bit obvious, but males. They weren’t known for subtlety. “A pie? Really? That feels good to your type?”

  “Yes.” He nodded sagely. “Warm.”

  She wrinkled her nose and he laughed again.

  “Not that I’ve tried it.”

  “Never needed to, I’m guessing.” She was pretty sure he got pie every night of the week, and it was the kind he didn’t need to eat with a fork.

  Probably gobbled it up with his fingers and tongue, and boy, weren’t those disturbing visuals. Mainly because she was seeing him with another chick in her head. Not her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and concentrated, swapping the faceless brunette in her mind who was on the receiving end of West’s oral favors to herself. Then she smiled as mental Lauren flung her eyes wild and squealed like the girls on Tumblr. The fantasy needed work, but for a fledgling effort? Not bad.

  “Why are you smiling?” he asked. “Do I dare to ask?”

  “I’m just imagining you going down on me instead of some random groupie girl.” When there was utter silence, she opened her eyes and found him staring at her, his brows raised. “Aww, no sputtering or choking? Have we lost the magic already?”

  “I don’t think so. I might be past the point of laughing.” He picked up his pizza and took a big bite. Slowly, he chewed, bringing her attention to the motion of his jaw.

  That should not be hot.

  “You’re staring.”

  “Sorry.” She snagged a couple of pieces of pepperoni off her pizza and popped them into her mouth. “I don’t always say outrageous things. Just when I’m breathing.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “I don’t get out much. That’s why I’m trying to correct that by having new experiences. I can’t spend all my time locked away with Ethan. It’s not healthy.” She bit into her pizza, belatedly noticing that West had stopped eating. “Don’t you like it?” she asked in between chewing, blotting her greasy chin with the napkin she grabbed with her other hand.

  “It’s great. Ethan, huh? He’s never managed to give you an orgasm?”

  She snorted. “If I can’t, you really think he could?” She took another bigger bite and dropped the piece on the plate, giving up all pretense of eating daintily. Not that she’d bothered overmuch in the first place.

  When you’d spent most of your life not fitting in, you stopped expecting to. Especially when your dinner date—err, companion—was a sex god rockstar. It wasn’t as if she could impress him even if she tried.

  “Wait, you can’t either?”

  She shook her head and reached for her soda, thumbing off the cap and tipping the bottle back for a long drink. “I think the female orgasm is a myth. I’m considering writing a book. I’m pretty sure the concept was just invented for perpetuation of the species.” When he inclined his chin behind her, she turned around and waved apologetically at the couple with their two young kids behind her. “My bad.”

  Turning back to face West—who appeared to be having convulsions behind his napkin—she shrugged. “I kept it mostly clean. Orgasm isn’t a dirty word. I wish I’d known it before I was in high school.”

  “I think it’s more the environment. You’re in a family pizza joint.”

  “Yeah, oops. I apologized. Those kids should be in bed anyway.” She stuffed her face with the rest of her slice so she didn’t say anything else dangerous while the family filed out of the booth and booked for the door.

  Chased another one away. Four-pack this time.

  That might be a personal best.

  “Now that they’re gone,” West leaned forward, “I can assure you the female orgasm is not a myth. Just like I can’t come twice in one session doesn’t mean some people can.”

  She blinked at him. “I don’t even believe in solos and you’re complaining you can’t go for multiples?”

  “Just saying. Everyone is different.” He shifted in his seat, stretching out his long jean-clad legs to the side of the booth. He wore heavy motorcycle boots with lots of buckles and hardware, the heavy kind that clomped when he walked. “What makes sex amazing is finding that individual key to turn. Figuring out what certain combination of things makes your partner lose their mind.”

  She chewed on a hunk of the crust—truly glorious—and considered what he’d said. She was pretty sure it was a hunk of baloney. “I think women are really good at faking. You men like to have your egos stroked. All I’m saying. And if you come back with ‘not all we like to have stroked’ you’re just proving my point. It’s an ego trip with most men. Not about pleasure.”

  The piece of crust in her throat got stuck so she washed it down with the last of her soda. She was about to pop up to go grab another one when he reached across the table and covered her hand on the bottle
with his own.

  More than a little dumbfounded, she watched him rise and lope to the cooler to grab her another soda. He snatched another for himself too and headed for the counter, appearing to engage in a brief, but spirited debate with the still-winking guy behind the counter.

  Weird.

  West came back and opened her soda for her before sliding it across the table. She nodded her thanks as he sat down again, and he let her take a couple of sips before he broke the silence.

  “If you truly believe what you just said, I’m guessing you’ve known some real douches. I’m sorry for that. Any guy who is thinking about his ego and not his partner’s enjoyment is a real asshole.” He pushed aside his plate to get right in her space. Wide-eyed, she held her ground, though it would have been so easy to slam her back against the seat.

  He was overwhelming in all the best ways.

  “And along those same lines, I can promise you not every guy is like that. Some of us take our time, and we—”

  “Don’t stop until you get it right?”

  “What?”

  Briefly, she debated sawing off her own tongue with her plastic spork. Too messy, probably. “Never mind. Song lyric. Failed attempt at humor. Please carry on.” She took a breath. “Were you about to dirty talk me?”

  “I think any guy who tried to use dirty talk on you would probably end up in therapy.”

  She laughed, grabbing her soda to wet her dry throat before she choked. “It all sounds so fake.”

  He grabbed his pizza and dangled the piece above his mouth before he took a large bite. He followed it up with a couple more, then wiped his face with his napkin and went back to finish off the slice. As soon as he plowed through the first, he did the same to the second. He grabbed two more off the plate and she dug into hers, figuring at least they were well-matched appetite-wise if nothing else.

  She was debating one more slice when he finally took a breather. “Dirty talk is like music. It’s not just a certain combination of lyrics and notes. It’s the mood, the feeling, the personalization. It’s about your man looking into your eyes as he peels off his clothes and touches you, as he tells you how he wants to make you feel.” His long fingers curled around the neck of his bottle and squeezed until the plastic buckled from the pressure. “How you’re making me feel.”

  Her breath shortened in her chest as he turned back to the pizza, easy as could be. Did he know she was having trouble swallowing all of a sudden? Plus, this unexpected arrhythmia couldn’t be good. Yet he was just chowing down as if he hadn’t just torched her panties.

  That hadn’t even been real dirty talk. Just the mere threat.

  Sweet hell

  “No smart comeback?”

  “No.” She wet her dry lips. “Did you…were you speaking in hypotheticals? I mean, that last line. Specifically.”

  He shot her a devastating grin and slid out of the booth. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

  Grabbing the mostly empty tray, he carted it up to the counter and had the guy box their remaining slices for later. His later, probably. Her pumpkin had to coming soon.

  She frowned at the telltale chirp that indicated Ethan texting her phone. Shoot, West still had it in his pocket. She’d turned down the volume a little after the last time she’d replied to her best friend, assuring him she was fine. She’d told him he could just hang out for the night—which, come to think of it, wasn’t very considerate considering he’d driven her up there just to be a good friend. But come on, man. Wasn’t there a friend get-out-of-jail card for this very sort of thing? They should’ve made an arrangement.

  Any rockstars seem interested in me, get gone. I’ll make it up to you later. Thanks. Love you. Buh-bye.

  West returned to the table with the box of leftover pizza under his arm and cocked a brow. “Ready?”

  “You have my phone.”

  “I do.”

  “You’re not giving it back?” She should protest his exertion of authority over her personal autonomy. She really should.

  She would.

  Anytime now.

  She was almost sure.

  The thing was, this way she had an excuse for not responding to Ethan. Coward’s way out? Sure. She’d accept that label tonight. She’d sworn to him that she was fine and could handle herself, and she was of sound mind and horny body. Not drunk or drugged, and reasonably skilled in karate. She could probably handle herself.

  Unless West wanted to handle her, and in that case, she’d most likely fling open her legs and toss her panties somewhere south of her dignity.

  Pride did not get you laid. Pride got you watching Tumblr late at night and making fun of people who were enjoying their life way more than you.

  “I thought about it,” West said after what seemed to be considerable thought. “Then I decided not to. Figured we should have a night to get to know each other without other people intruding. Do you want it back?”

  She shook her head yes. “No.”

  West grinned and extended his free hand to help her out of the booth. Then he grabbed his soda and his and tossed them into his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder. “What now?”

  They crossed the restaurant and stepped outside into the rain-soaked night, and for a second, her eyes were dazzled by the puddles lit up by the crisscrossing beams of light from passing cars. “What are my choices?”

  “Anything.”

  “Wow. Really?”

  He shrugged. “If it’s legal. If it’s not, we’ll see. I don’t mind breaking a law now and then.”

  “Why could I have guessed that about you?” she muttered, taking the pizza box when he would’ve stopped her. She was of half a mind to finish it off while it was still warm.

  Glutton. You’ll still want sex even if you stuff yourself until you can’t move.

  She glanced up the street and down, weighing her options. Her gaze landed on a lit-up building halfway down the next block. They’d passed it on the way to the pizza joint. “Bowling? Is that bowling?”

  “From the name Cosmic Rama, I’m gonna guess yes. That’s your choice?”

  Did he sound disappointed or was that just wishful sexing on her part? “For now,” she said, wondering if she was overplaying her hand. “I’ve never done it. It’s on my list.”

  “You’ve never bowled? How?”

  She shifted the pizza box from one arm to the other and tried not to shiver from the chill. The temperature seemed to have dropped ten degrees since they’d gone inside. “Because I spent my formative years having PJ parties with a bunch of private school girls who didn’t consider bowling feminine. I don’t know. Just add it to all the other things I missed.”

  “Probably not the worst of it.” He slid her a sidelong glance, then tugged her under the shelter of his arm. Smack dab into his entirely too warm body. Oh, and the muscles. The muscles were quite lovely. “You’re shaking. Cold?”

  The smartass inside her nearly said something rude. The part of her that had become much more mercenary when it came to getting close to him stifled the urge. Add in the oddly arousing smell of sweat clinging faintly to his skin along with a mixture of soap and…was that coffee? God. He smelled delicious.

  She was so toast.

  “I have a chill,” she said in a small voice, doing a mental cheer as he dragged her closer while they walked down the street and crossed to the bowling alley.

  So evidently, being sweet was a way to get things you wanted as a female. She’d guessed as much, but she wasn’t so good at employing that tactic. This time, however, she was just greedy enough to keep batting her eyes and pretending that she didn’t have a response sent to her by the devil himself for every question.

  “Why are you rolling your eyes at me? I’m just keeping you warm. My hand isn’t headed down your pants.”

  “Dammit.”

  His soft laugh made her flash him a real smile. He almost made it easy to not be a jerk.

  She wasn’t used to that either.
r />   “But I wasn’t rolling my eyes. I was giving you the blowjob look. It’s harder to do it out here though because my bangs and the rain keep getting in my eyes.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus.” He shook his head and nudged her ahead of him as he opened the door. “Go left.”

  “Left. Right.”

  “No, left.”

  She sighed and just did as he asked, finding herself stepping into a brightly lit, small shop for the bowling aficionado. Gear from shoes to bags to clothes—clothes?—hung from every wall and the rafters. She could even purchase a miniature bowler for her desk.

  “What size are you?” West asked, going right to the rack of jackets. The ones in front were a bright pink satin that reminded her of Grease.

  “Um, ten. Twelve with boobs.”

  He glanced at her, tossing an errant blond curl that had escaped his man-bun out of his eyes. “Do they detach? Never mind. I know I won’t win that one.” He flipped through the hangers on the rack. “Here you go. Try this on.”

  She gave him the pizza box and took the jacket, sliding it on with a purr of pleasure. “Oh wow, this feels wonderful. So soft inside. Fleece?” She brushed her fingers over it and sighed. “I feel like I’m back in the days of Laverne and Shirley. I used to watch that old show in reruns when I was little.” She glanced up at West, who was staring at her oddly with his lips drawn in. “What’s wrong? Does it look weird?”

  Before he could answer, she moved to the glass windows on the side of the shop that faced the arcade and bowling alley. She turned sideways, studying herself in the glass. “I actually kind of love it,” she declared, pulling her thin wallet out of her back pocket. She’d left her purse in Ethan’s car, just bringing her phone, wallet and lipstick into the arena. “It might not be the best fashion statement, but I’m a trendsetter.”

  When she would’ve tugged out her wallet, she noticed West already sauntering up the checkout area. He pointed at her in the jacket, then nodded and fished out his own wallet.

  Swallowing hard, she fumbled for the price tag. And blinked. The price did not change. What? Was this thing lined with gold threads? It was not cheap, and truthfully, if she had known the price, it would’ve been out of her budget for such a frivolous item. She couldn’t wear it all the time. For one, she lived in southern California, and two, a bowling jacket wasn’t the usual wardrobe choice.