Lipstick Kisses : A Sexy, Standalone Contemporary Romance Page 16

  “You’ve grown up,” I say, making no bones about eyeing her from head to toe. She actually blushes.

  “So I’ve been told,” she says.

  “How long has it been since I’ve laid eyes on you?” I eye her again.

  “Too long,” she says in her seductive voice.

  “What are you up to now?”

  “I’m in my last year at Pepperdine,” she replies. So she’s still local for me, and my ears perk up . . . as well as other parts of my body.

  “How about you?”

  “I live and work in LA now,” I reply.

  “Oh, that’s right. Kylie told me.”

  The amount of sex appeal she packs in that petite frame of hers would have a guy hard in seconds. I’m already dying to get between those long, sexy legs of hers. I can tell she knows it by the way she moves and tilts her head and pierces me with those sultry, exotic eyes of hers. The way her lips move leaves me fantasizing about having them wrapped around me.

  Her voice is the perfect combination of deep and throaty, yet it has a flirtatious lilt to it. Seriously, she could bottle it and sell it like an expensive perfume.

  From eyeing her in her tiny bikini, which leaves little to the imagination, I peg her measurements to be 34-24-34. Pure perfection. She’s probably a C-cup, a large handful, which looks even larger on her svelte body. She catches me eyeing her like a dog eyes a bone. Yes, I want to consume her. But I have to approach this one just right. She definitely gets her share of attention and can pick and choose who she lets into her bed—that would be my guess.

  Judging by the way she sways those curvaceous hips of hers, she ain’t no virgin. She has probably heard every line that a guy on the make can throw her way. I need to think of my approach, although I have never had a problem getting what I want from the female persuasion.

  As we continue to converse, I can tell that, on top of her enticing physical attributes, she’s also articulate and smart. I find this to add to her appeal, not take away from it. I’m not like most guys. I need a girl who’s smart and will challenge me to hold my interest. She’s still in school, studying business law at Pepperdine.

  I just graduated and set myself in a cool bachelor pad overlooking the city in one of those high-rise condos in Downtown LA. I just started working at Goldman Sachs as an up-and-coming investment banker.

  As our beach party winds down, I manage to score Sloane’s number and a date with her for next Saturday night. I will be counting the days until I can get my hands on that sinful body of hers.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Justin

  I’ve taken Sloane out to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants, and we’ve been dancing in the hottest club in LA. And although I’ve enjoyed her company, we’re back at my place and I’m more than ready to enjoy that luscious body of hers. I’ve been fantasizing about sinking myself into it all week. Did you know that a guy thinks about sex, on average, about twenty times a day? There have been studies on it. It’s been proven, and I can vouch for that. I’m living proof of this theory.

  Once I lure her into my bedroom, I move quickly, like a tiger does with its prey. I want to devour her. I’ve got her naked, and she’s splayed out on my bed with her long, silky hair falling across my pillow.

  Now I’m perched right where I want to be, between her sinuous legs. I dive into her intoxicating scent. I roll my tongue over her sensitive bud, and she flinches up hard against my lips. I pull it into my mouth, and as I suck it in, my eyes watch her as she gasps and starts fisting my sheets. Her luscious tits arch up, and I can see her nipples peak. I continue my assault on her slick bud before I slide a finger into her.

  Damn, she’s tight as a virgin.

  She tenses. “Oh, Justin.” She moans, then opens her eyes and gazes down at me in surprise.

  “Relax and enjoy,” I soothe. I’ve got her right where I want her, primed and ready for me. Soon, she’ll be begging for me. They all do.

  I slowly crawl back up her curvaceous body, admiring the view before I settle my hips between her thighs. My steely shaft is ready and waiting to enter her slice of heaven. I take her lips in a scorching kiss that she deepens. She’s panting for me. I take my shaft and glide the tip along her slick folds.

  “Justin.” She swallows as if she’s hesitant all of a sudden.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Can you go slow and easy?” she asks softly, her eyes searching mine.

  “Sure,” I reply, a little caught off guard. I was just about ready to plunder her, but suddenly, something doesn’t seem right. I hear it in her voice, in her request.

  “Sloane, this isn’t your first . . .” I stop mid-sentence as she starts to nod her head yes.

  Shit.

  I want to scream, “No way! How is this possible?” But I hold back. I only let out a loud sigh. I can’t do this now.

  “Wow.” I sigh, rolling off her and onto my back as I stare at the ceiling, cursing my luck.

  “Justin, we still can, you know . . .” She trails off.

  No, we can’t. I can’t be the one to take her V-card. Too much responsibility in that. She’ll get all clingy, and that’s the last thing I need right now. I know how I operate. Once I’ve had her, I’ll tire of her after a couple of months and move on. That’s how it’s always been, for as long as I can remember. I don’t want to do that to Sloane, especially if this is her first time. Man, hold it together. I need to think with my big head, not my little one.

  Sloane rolls onto her side and teases me by dragging her fingertips down my chest and abs, and then she takes me in her warm, soft hand.

  “Come on, big boy. Let me finish you off. Show me the way,” she purrs.

  “How is it possible that a girl that looks like you, with a body that moves like that, is still a virgin?” Her eyes cast down, and she looks embarrassed by my question.

  “I just want to really feel for the person I give my virginity to. Is that such a crime?” she asks.

  Hey, don’t get me wrong here. I’ve always had a soft spot for my little sister’s friend. I always thought she was cute and sweet. Heck, I knew she was crushing on me. Then she showed up that day at the beach party, and damn, she had grown up into one tantalizing woman, sexy-as-sin in her skimpy bikini, which left me rock hard. All the guys noticed her that day. I saw them eyeing her all afternoon. None dared approach her but me.

  “Sloane, I can’t do this.”

  “You can’t or you won’t?” she throws back, looking wounded.

  “I have to think about it.”

  Who the hell just said that?

  “Don’t think, just feel,” Sloane says seductively as she rolls on top of me, lifts off and starts kissing her way down my chest.

  My cock twitches, and I know I’m in trouble.

  I feel her long, black hair tickle my abs as she ventures down lower and lower, until I feel the heat of her breath moving along my shaft, teasing me slowly before she flicks it with feather-light, quick strokes up and down along its ridges. Just when I think I can’t take another minute of this torture, she takes me deep into her warm mouth.

  “Ahhh,” I groan. She’s working me into a frenzy. I want to push her head down further onto me, but I manage to resist. It’s dear, sweet Sloane, after all. Now she moves back up my body and is straddling me, her face next to mine.

  “I want this. I want you,” she says as her warm breath caresses my ear. Her pert nipples graze my chest, and I desperately need to be inside her, rocking her world right now. But a voice of reason keeps me from diving off the deep end and into her.

  “No, Sloane, I’m not what you want. I can’t give you what you want.”

  I try to talk some sense into both of us before we take the plunge.

  “Oh, but I think you can,” she murmurs, her voice thick with want.

  No, I know she wants more than what this would be for me.

  I can’t let this happen.

  I would never want to be the one to break her heart,
the virgin’s heart, I remind myself.

  “Get off me, Sloane,” comes out of my mouth, and it sounds harsh, almost cruel. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.

  She climbs off me and out of bed.

  She looks beyond hurt and a little pissed.

  She starts searching for her clothes.

  “Take me home,” she barks out in an unrecognizable voice, and she won’t even look at me.

  I feel like such a chump, but trust me, she’ll be thanking me later.

  I drive her home in silence. What’s there to say?

  We pull up to her building, and she gets out without a word, slams the door, and doesn’t look back.

  Am I a fool to let that nice piece of ass walk away?

  Damn, she’s more than a piece of ass, and you know it.

  She’s Sloane, she’s special, and you know you’re not man enough for her.

  She needs to be treated right.

  I remind myself of this so that I will stay away from the temptation of Sloane Hart.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sloane

  Once Justin drops me off from the world’s most humiliating date in history, I get into my bedroom, throw myself onto my bed, and have a good cry.

  I was so elated when Justin called and invited me out for dinner. This was going to be a real date with Justin, the boy turned Adonis, who I’ve had a crush on for as long as I can remember. Can you imagine how I felt inside? While getting ready for the date, I was giddy with excitement.

  Things were going so well, we were getting along, and I was having the best time. Everything just felt so right. To me, anyway. Once he got me back to his place, we started fooling around, and he practically had me begging for it with his tongue alone. I was going to give him my virginity tonight.

  I was afraid to admit that I was indeed still a virgin. But I got so nervous when he was about to enter me that I couldn’t stop myself from saying something. When I did, his whole demeanor changed, and he threw it back in my face. What guy does that?

  Maybe I wasn’t sexy enough for him. Maybe my inexperience showed. I get up and stand in front of my full-length mirror and stare at my body, then I cup my breasts. They seem decent sized. What didn’t he like? I’m going to bed now. I can’t try and figure out what he likes and doesn’t like. All I know is he doesn’t want me, and it hurts.

  The next morning, I wake up, my eyes still swollen from last night’s crying fest—but it’s a new day.

  “How was your date with Justin?” my roommate, Emily, asks. Then she takes one look at me with my swollen eyes and says, “That good, huh?”

  “Yeah, he didn’t want me,” I admit.

  “How is that possible? Just look at you,” she says, trying to be nice.

  All I can do is shrug. “Go figure. I give up. I’m throwing in the towel on this one.”

  “It baffles me, honestly,” she says.

  “Hey, it is what it is,” I say, pouring myself a mug of coffee.

  “Man, if this is what happens to you with your beauty and body, there is no hope for me . . . ever,” she half-jokes.

  “Stop it, Emily. You’re freaking adorable.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she replies with a wave of her hand.

  “What makes it worse is that I have to see him again today. I promised Kylie I would come down for a barbeque this afternoon. I so hope he’s not there. I will feel so embarrassed and humiliated.”

  “Sloane, you have nothing to feel embarrassed about. You go down there looking smoking hot—like you always do—and find some other guy to have a good time with. Do you hear me?” Emily says, trying to lift my spirits like the good friend that she is.

  ***

  Emily and I arrive at the Harlow house at the appointed hour. I brought Emily for moral support. I see Justin’s car parked in the driveway, and my heart sinks.

  “Come on, Sloane, you can do it,” Emily says to me as she sees me staring at Justin’s car.

  “God, why does he have to be here?” I pout.

  “Because it’s his house.” Emily states the obvious.

  “Let’s head down to the beach. Kylie texted me and said that’s where they all are right now.”

  There’s a good crowd this afternoon, the usual suspects and a few I don’t recognize. I find Kylie and give her a hug, and she greets Emily. I look around for Justin, and he’s playing volleyball with three other guys.

  “Come on, let’s go lay out and work on our tans,” Kylie says, and we follow her to her umbrella and beach chairs set up by the volleyball court.

  I take off my dress and adjust my string bikini so nothing is hanging out and everything is appropriately covered before I lie down on my towel—just as a ball lands right next to me, spraying my face with sand.

  “Hey,” I object.

  “Sorry about that,” a deep, masculine voice says apologetically. I look up into the most incredible blue eyes I have ever seen. Who is this?

  “No worries,” I stammer out, and Kylie giggles at me. The guy trots off back to the court.

  “Stop laughing, and WHO is that?” I don’t hesitate to ask.

  Maybe Emily was right in that I should find someone new to have a good time with.

  “Pretty hot, isn’t he? He’s a friend of Justin’s from work. His name is Connor Love,” Kylie replies with a straight face.

  “You’re joking about his name, right?” I say, half-laughing.

  “No, seriously, that’s his name. Kind of funny, isn’t it? But from the looks of him, I bet he could dish out some serious love,” Kylie teases. She’s right on that one. “I see him looking at you.”

  “Stop it, he is not.”

  If he is, then I welcome the attention.

  I definitely need the ego boost after last night’s debacle.

  I’ll die if Justin tells his buddies how undesirable I am and that I’m still the dreaded virgin.

  As the sun goes down, Andre, the Harlows’ personal chef, starts getting the fire burning. We gather around the picnic tables by the fire pit. I put my dress back on and a sweater, as it’s starting to get a little chilly. I catch myself stealing glances at Justin. I eye his chest and his delicious abs, in particular, remembering kissing his smooth skin and the way his tongue felt down there. Stop it, Sloane. He doesn’t want you. Get over it.

  “Hi, I’m Connor,” Mr. Blue Eyes says, coming up alongside me with all the confidence in the world.

  “Hi, Connor, I’m Sloane,” I say in a friendly tone, even though he makes me a bit nervous.

  “So, you’re friends with Kylie?” he asks.

  “Yeah, we’ve been friends forever,” I reply. “How long have you been friends with Justin? I haven’t ever seen you at one of their parties before.”

  “We met at Goldman Sachs. We started together. Do you want to take a walk before dinner?”

  “Sure,” I agree, and we break away from the group. Then, suddenly, Justin is in our faces.

  “Where are you two going?” he says almost confrontationally.

  “Hey, man, just for a walk before dinner. Is that a crime?” Connor says, not backing down.

  “Don’t be gone long. Dinner is almost ready,” Justin huffs out and lets us by.

  “What’s his problem?” I ask Connor as we walk away from the group.

  “He seems oddly possessive of you. Do you know why?”

  “I have no idea. We’ve known each other forever. Maybe it’s a big brother protective thing going on,” I say, trying to play off that angle. That must be what it is, because I know he can’t possibly be jealous. You only get jealous when you want that person, and I know for a fact that he doesn’t want me.

  I learn that Connor went to Cornell and just moved out here to start with Goldman Sachs as an investment banker. Looks and brains. I like that combination. He sounds like he’s doing well. We head back and join the group. I’m famished by now. We fill our plates, and Connor sits with us girls.

  I barely look at Justin, although I sense
he is nearby and staring at us. After dinner, I’m in the mood for s’mores, my absolute favorite dessert.

  “Come on, Sloane, let’s roast the marshmallows for our s’mores.” These are the first words Justin has spoken directly to me since I’ve been here. I’m pissed with him. I don’t even respond. He hands me two marshmallows and the skewer. “Come on,” he coaxes again, and I can’t be rude, so I get up and follow him.

  We sit down next to each other companionably, even though I’m feeling anything but companionable toward the man who rejected me last night.

  “Look, Sloane, I’m sorry about last night,” he says softly.

  I just continue to stare into the fire, refusing to look at him. The feeling of humiliation is washing through me again. I don’t want to talk about last night.

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Forget it,” I clip out.

  “You should be thanking me anyway,” he continues.

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “I’m saving you from heartache,” Mr. Egomaniac goes on.

  “Yeah, I know. You’re God’s gift to women. Thanks for saving me from you,” I say, full of sarcasm that I didn’t know I had in me.

  “That’s not what I mean,” he says defensively.

  “Look, I get it. You don’t find me desirable. That’s fine, but must you rub my face in it?”

  Why am I even engaging in this conversation?

  “Sloane, you don’t get it.” He stews.

  “Enlighten me, then.”

  “Not here, not now,” he replies.

  “Whatever. Be cryptic then.”

  My marshmallows are done, and I stand up to go and find the chocolate and graham crackers. He follows me. I just can’t shake him. Once we put our s’mores together, he says, “Come walk with me.”

  “No.” I refuse to be humiliated and ridiculed yet again by him and his words of explanation as to why he finds me undesirable and not good enough to sleep with.

  “Sloane, don’t be like that. I want to explain where I’m coming from, and you will thank me. I promise.”