Page 63 of Filthy Player
“Hold on,” I said.
She gave me a look. I was already tugging on my pants. “Honest, don’t move. I’ll get something.”
I ran to my kitchen, grabbed a paper towel and came back to her, fighting the urge to laugh but unable to do anything but admire the curve of her ass, the summer tan lines that proved her swimsuit was fucking tiny.
I wiped me off her back and then held out her panties and jeans. “Shower if you need to,” I said. “My sister and Powell are coming for dinner. They’ll be here soon.”
“What!?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
PAIGE
His sister. His freaking sister was coming. Nothing like throwing me into the fire. While I tried calming down as we took a quick shower, rinsing off our bodies and keeping my hair mostly dry, I still wanted to slaughter him.
What if they’d shown up early?
How would I face her knowing I’d just let her brother have sex with me against a wall?
I wasn’t exactly a prude in bed. I liked variety. I liked changing it up now and then and like most girls in their mid-twenties, I survived dry spells with my handy-dandy operated helper.
But being thrown against a wall and taken like that, having someone finish on me and not in me…well, that was new.
It was also passionate, filled with a fire I couldn’t stop burning whenever I was around Beaux. Since I had no intention of dousing those flames, I stopped being mad and started worrying about Shannon.
They were close. From everything Beaux had told me, and he always talked about Shannon, she’d not only pretty much raised him, she’d always protected him. She took care of him. She sacrificed what she wanted in order to help Beaux reach his dreams.
When he could, he repaid her by buying her a building for her own business, something I saw talked about constantly on local design blogs. Her jewelry was cool. Funky metal bangles and bracelets and necklaces and earrings, she handmade everything herself. The woman must have been a sorceress, able to stop time with a blink of her eye or wiggle of her nose.
I had no idea how she worked so hard and managed to have a life.
Plus, she was engaged to Oliver Powell. One of the hottest and most famous tight ends in football. Hell, he’d even done some commercials and appeared on television shows over the last couple of years.
Together, they seemed like an unstoppable force. At least a couple I wanted to make a really great impression on.
I wasn’t certain fucking her brother and still being wet from a shower when they arrived was the best way to handle that one.
I was fixing my mascara with Q-Tips and water because since Beaux hadn’t warned me, I didn’t have anything at his place. I hoped Shannon didn’t think my flushed cheeks were after sex glow, but excitement over the win.
I needed a drink.
“Beaux!” I shouted. He’d already left the room, but I was still fussing with running makeup and frizzed out hair.
“What?” he shouted back. Seconds later, I heard pounding footsteps on his wood stairs as he rushed up to me. “What is it?
I held out my hand, trembling like I’d drank too much caffeine. Nerves and crazy sex adrenaline crash the causes for sure.
“Do you have wine? I need a drink. A big one. A box, maybe, not a bottle. Do you have anything?”
“Woah.” He threw up both hands palms out. “Slow your roll, psycho. It’s just Shannon.”
“I need a drink.” I leaned in, hissing. “You’ve freaked me out, I can barely stand up straight, thanks to you, and I didn’t have time prepare to meet your only family. Plus,” I circled my face with my finger, “I have this freshly-fucked look going on and I need to chill out.”
He leaned against the doorframe during my rant and grinned. “You can barely stand up straight? Legs shaking too bad?”
I tossed the Q-tip into the trashcan. “I’m freaking out!”
“I know, crazy. It’s funny. Seriously, it’s Shannon. And as far as your freshly-fucked look, do you know how many times I’ve shown up at their place to see her looking the same? It’s about time I got my payback.”
