I’ll need to borrow one of their cars for those outings, obviously.
Lydia’s carefully folding Rhys’ jacket when the door opens. It’s Vince. Vince with an actual smile on this face. He’s got his hands in his pockets, thumbs hooked on the exterior. His body language is relaxed, polar opposite to Lydia’s entrance a few minutes before. His eyes rest on mine for a moment before he turns his attention to Lydia. He has curious eyes, that’s how I’d describe them. There’s a speck of interest when he looks at me. Amused interest, but it bodes well for me. Of course I might be projecting based on what I want to see. As long as I’m projecting I’m going to note that he looks well rested too. Like he could stay up all night if needed.
“After a small bidding war we came to an agreement at five,” Vince tells Lydia.
“Got who to five?” Lydia asks, a look of confusion on her face as if she’s already forgotten why she’s here.
“Rhys,” Vince says, looking at her like she’s crazy. “Wasn’t that the entire point, Lydia?”
Exactly! That’s exactly what I just said! Vince and I are so in sync. God, tonight is going to be amazing.
Lydia drops into the chair next to mine and proceeds to argue with Vince about how much Rhys should have paid for her. It seems Vince thought he was being generous for not antagonizing Rhys into paying a million and Lydia thought Rhys was going to check out with a Groupon deal.
My life has gotten exponentially more entertaining since moving in with Lydia. I didn’t really see that coming, to be honest. She’s a bit on the quiet, goody-two-shoes side. When she’s not selling her virginity to her boss, that is.
“Does he think he’s getting a party?” Lydia is questioning Vince when I tune back in to their conversation. I was distracted cataloging every detail of how he looks in that suit. Is liking the way a jacket fits his shoulders a weird thing? Because I’m deeply into it. “I’m not doing his friends or anything weird like that. I’m not.” She’s firm about this, it would seem.
“I would,” I chime in. “You only live once, am I right?”
Vince pauses at that, side-eyeing the hell out of me before running a hand over his jaw and exhaling. “I’ve got no idea what the guy is into,” he replies, addressing Lydia. “I’m sure the two of you can figure that out. Alone. Without me,” he adds in a tone tells me he’s reached his limit on this charade. I can’t really blame him, it’s not even a real auction. It’s real money, sure, but the auction was fake.
“She accepts,” I announce to both of them. “You accept,” I tell Lydia. “It’s time to earn your Rhys badge.”
“What in the hell is a Rhys badge?” Vince looks between us before shaking his head. “Never mind, I don’t actually want to know. He’s outside, waiting for you. It’s your choice. I’m not giving him his money back though. Dumb fuck has more than he needs.” He mutters the last part under his breath.
We’re definitely in agreement on that. Rhys totally deserves to lose half a million dollars because Lydia would have gone home with him for free weeks ago. I love how we’re already on the same page about our friends, like a team. We have so much in common it’s ridiculous.
Less than five minutes later we’re dropping Lydia off for her first day of school, I mean sex. We don’t have kids of our own yet because it’s not possible to get pregnant from eye-fucking someone.
I give Lydia a final hug as Vince holds the door open for her. I don’t think Vince needed my help walking her to the door but you didn’t think I was going to let him out of my sight now, did you? Lydia is not the only one getting laid tonight.
“Break a dick!” I call out to Lydia as the door swings shut behind her.
And then I’m alone with Vince.
Finally.
The sexual tension is off the charts. Way, way off.
I bet we’re gonna have sex in this hallway because he won’t be able to contain himself long enough to make it back to his office or to a broom closet, which is fine because I’m ready. So very ready.
He’s standing so close behind me I can feel the heat and energy flaring between us without us even physically touching. I take my time turning, wanting to drag the moment out and commit it to memory forever. I wet my lips as I pivot, my eyes level with his chest. He’s so appetizingly tall and broad and manly. I exhale and drag my eyes upwards, ready to tip my head back for a kiss.
Except he’s laughing.
At me.
Chapter Eight
“It’s ‘break a leg,’” he says. “The saying. It’s ‘break a leg,’ not ‘break a dick.’”
I groan in exasperation. Now is not the time for semantics.
“Like breaking a dick wouldn’t be exponentially worse?” I snap back. I can’t believe this is the conversation we’re having right now.
“Fair point,” he says with a tip of his head, smirk still firmly in place, which annoys me enough to elaborate.
“For the record—” I hold up a finger, ready to make my case, but I’m interrupted before I can get very far.
“The record,” he interrupts, his brows lifted in amusement. “Do we need a court reporter present? Should I make a call?”
Ugh, this guy.
“For the record,” I start again after shooting him a look that conveys he had best let me finish, “the phrase ‘break a leg’ is an ironic expression of good luck. So telling someone to break a dick as they’re on their way to have sex is a pretty brilliant adaption of the phrase.” I cross my arms in triumph, because when you’re right you’re right. And I’m so right. I might even submit this phase to Urban Dictionary because I think this one has a real chance of catching on.
He laughs out loud this time before shaking his head and turning on his heel to retreat down the hallway following the path we took to get here, his footsteps reverberating on the polished concrete floors.
“You’re nuts. Cute but nuts,” he mutters as he starts up the stairs.
“No. I’m actually really funny. That was just proof of that.” I jog up the steps so I can catch up with him at the landing and cut him off. “And no one has called me cute since I was twelve. I’m way past twelve.”
“I can see that,” he replies after a pregnant pause, his gaze dropping briefly to my cleavage.
Thank fuck this body shimmer is finally working.
“Good. What else do you want to see?” I rest my hand on the railing, blocking him from further escape, my head tilted to the side in what I hope appears as a blatant invitation.
“Excuse me?” He gets the most amazing line on his forehead when he narrows his eyes on me. There’s a hint of a laugh on his lips warring with the flicker of disbelief in his expression and I want him to kiss me. I might die if he doesn’t kiss me soon. Melt right into an angsty puddle of sexual need. Death by denial of his perfect lips.
“I’d be happy to break your dick,” I offer, then wince. “Okay”—I remove my hand from the railing and hold it up in the universal stop gesture—“I’ll admit that adaption didn’t really work.”