“Nope,” Becca agreed. “Why spend the money when we can drink wine and watch Netflix?”
“Truth.”
“So get over here. The world’s ugliest couch is calling your name.”
* * *
Two hours and one chick flick later, Georgia climbed into her bed and shut off the light. She tucked the comforter around herself to keep out the chill. Theirs was a small, drafty apartment in an old building which had changed purposes so many times that it was difficult to say whether her little bedroom had once been someone’s office or their servants’ quarters. Her double bed barely fit into the space. But she wouldn’t trade it for a high-rise in a less interesting neighborhood. Dumbo was pricey but scenic. And the short walking commute to work was something every New Yorker dreamed of.
She lay there in the dark, waiting for sleep to come. But the difficult day still held her in its stressful clutches. Leo’s handsome face drifted through her consciousness for the first time in years. There was an ocean of time between them now—four years of college plus two more afterward.
Georgia never let herself think about him—it was too painful. She’d lost so much during her senior year of high school. Her peace of mind. Her fearlessness. And the love of the boy she’d always cherished. In order to bury those bad memories, she’d had to pack away the fun times with Leo, too. But today it had all come rushing at her like an avalanching closet. All the good, the bad, and the handsome, chiseled chin. The warm brown eyes . . .
Yikes.
Leo was going to be difficult to ignore—all two hundred glorious muscular pounds of him. Just the idea that he could pass by her office door at any moment was distracting. If she saw him almost every day, that tide of memories would not be held back.
At least there’d be a lot of good mixed in with the sad and the scary. They’d had so much fun together. Looking back on it with a few years’ distance, Georgia realized they’d probably been one of those couples that lonely people hated. Whenever they were in the same room together, they were always touching. His hand on her knee under the table at the diner. Her fingers ruffling the hair at the back of his head.
And the stolen kisses . . .
Georgia squirmed in her bed. The memory of Leo’s hands on her body was potent, even after all this time. Whenever they’d found a moment’s privacy, they’d always attacked each other. The combination of natural chemistry and teenage enthusiasm had been practically combustible.
In hindsight, it was a miracle they’d never had a pregnancy scare. By the time Georgia turned eighteen and promptly snuck off to get an IUD without her father’s knowledge, they’d been fooling around for many months already. The generous bench seat of Leo’s old truck was their favorite place in the world. It was there that they’d kissed for hours on end, their hands wandering and exploring as far as they dared in a parked vehicle.
But the first time they had any real privacy was in Georgia’s bed, on a night when her dad was out of town at one of his away games. Georgia had sworn to him that Leo would not come over while she was home alone. And yet the minute his car had backed down the driveway, she’d called Leo to tell him the coast was clear.
After hanging up, she’d removed all her clothes and climbed into bed. She’d laid there, the sheets silky against her heated skin, listening. Ten minutes later she heard the sound of Leo’s truck engine. Then the slam of his door as he got out.
Georgia had clutched the sheet to her chest, where her heart did the mambo—not out of fear, but expectation. She heard the muted sounds of Leo moving through the house, looking for her.
When he finally appeared in the doorway to her bedroom, the look in his eye was hot enough to melt her everywhere. He kicked off his shoes and stalked over to the bed. Without a word, he tossed his hockey jacket aside and climbed onto the bed, pressing her down into the mattress with his hips, his mouth landing on her neck.
She gasped, pulling him closer with both her bare arms. His warm mouth did marvelous things to her throat while she fumbled with the hem of his T-shirt. “Off. Now,” she’d demanded.
“Me or the shirt?” he’d rumbled in her ear.
“The shirt! And the jeans. All of it.” She said what she wanted, and she was not embarrassed. That’s how it was between them. Easy. “You’re the only one here who’s wearing any clothes.”
Leo’s eyes had widened, then he’d shot up to his knees and yanked off his T-shirt, revealing the lean, muscular chest she’d always admired. Then his fingers had gone to his fly, and he caught on to the fact that she was watching. Maybe another boy would have gotten shy. But his eyes had locked on hers, his expression blistering. When he’d shoved down his jeans and boxers, his erection had bounced free, slapping him in the stomach.
Georgia’s stomach shimmied. Then she’d reached out slowly and wrapped her hand around him. He’d been impossibly hot and hard in her hand.
Leo dropped his head back and gasped with happiness. So she’d moved her hand slowly up his shaft, her thumb making an exploratory sweep across the tip of him. Leo had made a helpless, guttural sound, so she did it again.
After a moment, his hand had closed around hers. “I’m about thirty seconds away from making a big mess,” he’d panted.
“I don’t care,” she’d whispered. Making Leo lose his mind was the best thing ever.
“Not yet,” he’d returned, gently removing her hand from his body. He’d shucked off his jeans and socks. Then Georgia made the bold move of tossing her sheet completely aside.
Leo’s eyes had practically bugged out of his head, then. For a moment he forgot how to speak, and Georgia didn’t breathe. Then Leo exhaled all of a sudden. “Goddamn, I love your body,” he said. He’d dropped a hand onto her flat stomach, and paused, as if he couldn’t decide what to touch first.
“Then come here,” she’d whispered, moving over to make room in her twin bed.
“Right.” He’d slipped into the bed beside her, his eyes laughing. “This is already the best night of my life,” he whispered.
Georgia couldn’t wait any longer. She’d reached for his face with both hands and kissed him.
He’d gasped, deepening the kiss. Then he’d rolled, spreading himself out on top of her. And finally, they were skin to skin. Everywhere. He’d pushed his tongue into her mouth and she’d felt herself absolutely flood with desire . . .
Unnng. Georgia rolled over, alone in her cold Brooklyn bed. She was never going to get to sleep if she kept thinking about that. Now she was sleepless for two reasons—the Rough Day Blues, and her libido had shaken itself awake for the first time in years.
Thanks, Leo Trevi. Thanks a ton.