Enemies with Benefits: A Real Man Page 3

  I opened my eyes and stared at the white tile in front of me. Yeah. Tonight. I didn’t know if I was reading the signs from her wrong, that the looks she gave me, the way she flushed when I complimented her, or her body language had nothing to do with her attraction toward me.

  But I was willing to risk it, because she needed to know how I felt.

  6

  Delilah

  I couldn’t remember the last time I had the house to myself. It was a little unnerving knowing no one else was here, feeling the weight of that emptiness settling around me. But it also felt like I could breathe.

  Aiden left for the frat party a couple of hours ago and had sent me a text saying he was just crashing there if I’d be okay by myself. I had to roll my eyes—like I was incapable of being alone.

  He might only be a year older than me, but he was a big brother in every sense of the words. Overly protective and growly toward any guy he thought showed any interest in me. Not that I had any of the latter. He and Mal did a good job of not letting guys even look in my direction.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, I stood in the living room for a moment, then sat down on the couch, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV to watch something. The silence was deafening, even with the sound from the television. My eyes moved across the room and landed on my father’s liquor cabinet. I swallowed, my throat tightening a little at the very thought of getting myself something to drink.

  I didn’t ever do this stuff—sneaking drinks from my father’s liquor stash, didn’t even have an interest in it—but what would a little shot hurt? Then I could make myself a frozen pizza and after that get a big heaping bowl of ice cream.

  Without Aiden here, he wouldn’t give me a hard time about eating all his favorite toppings. I snorted and shook my head but did rise to go over to the liquor cabinet.

  I crouched on my haunches, opened up the double doors, and looked inside. Dad wasn’t a big drinker, but on the occasion he had people over to entertain, he did have a variety of spirits.

  Vodka, scotch, gin, and a few other bottles were lined up on the bottom of the shelf. I reached to the back for a bottle of scotch and pulled it out, staring at the dark-colored liquid inside the old looking bottle. I swirled it around, my stomach turning, my mind telling me this was a bad idea, because the stuff probably tasted like ass.

  But regardless, I unscrewed the cap, brought the bottle up to my mouth, and took a long drink from it. I underestimated how much would come out, and a hefty amount slid down the back of my throat. I started sputtering, alcohol dribbling out my mouth and down my chin. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand, screwing up my face in disgust, and put the bottle back where I found it.

  My throat burned, my stomach did a flip, and I felt a grimace still on my face.

  After closing the cabinet, I made my way into the kitchen, grabbed a pizza out of the freezer, turned on the oven, and slapped the frozen circle in the center of a cookie sheet before sliding it in and closing the door.

  I grabbed all the toppings I wanted for the ice cream and put them on the counter. After grabbing the biggest bowl I could find, I told myself to screw any guilt for all the junk I was about to consume tonight.

  A flush stole over me, and I knew it was thanks to the scotch.

  I didn’t know how long I stood there, but it was long enough that the pizza was done and I felt nice and warm and a little tingly from the alcohol.

  Twenty minutes later and I was sitting on the couch, a rom-com playing on the TV that I’d seen a hundred times before, but still I couldn’t focus. The alcohol made a steady way through my veins, and I was feeling nice and loose, really relaxed but not drunk.

  I took my plate to the sink, rinsed it off, and grabbed a big glass of water. After guzzling two glasses, I was about to get the ice cream going when I saw a flash of headlights come through the kitchen window. Maybe Aiden decided to come home early?

  But I wasn’t so sure about that. My brother liked to party and drink, especially when he was hanging out with his friends at a frat party. I supposed that’s where the two of us differed the most. He was an extrovert, and I was… not.

  And then before I could pull the curtain aside and see if it was him, there were two hard knocks at the front door. My heart jumped in my throat, and I turned to face the entryway that led to the foyer. I couldn’t see the front door, but a hundred scenarios moved through my mind. I thought back to all those horror movies I watched, all the serial killer shows and documentaries, even the suspense book I read just last week.

  And then I told myself I was being ridiculous. It wasn’t even ten at night. And I was sure a serial killer wouldn’t knock on my front door.

  I dried my hands off and headed in that direction just as there was another hard rap on the wood. I rose up on my toes, bracing my palms on the smooth, cold wood, and looked out the little peephole. The air left me in relief and a whole lot of excitement when I saw Mal standing on the other side.

  He held a couple of books in his hand, and I stepped back and unlocked the door, pulling it open. My cheeks felt hot, and it had nothing to do with the shot I’d taken and everything to do with the larger-than-life guy who stood on my doorstep.

  He was so tall and big, muscular, with wide shoulders, defined, bulging biceps, and every other masculine attribute that turned me on in only the way he could. I didn’t know what it was about him. There was an abundance of guys at school who were attractive, but they never made my heart race, never had me even feeling a smidgen of arousal.

  Mal was the only one who ever had those feelings inside me rising up violently.

  “Hey,” he said in a deep, husky voice.

  I swallowed and licked my lips, suddenly feeling the burn of that alcohol take place in my throat again. “Hi,” I responded shakily.

  He held up the two books in his hand. They were thick college textbooks. “I was in the neighborhood and had these for Aiden. Figured I could drop them off.”

  It took me just a second to let his words sink in. He was in the neighborhood? Mal’s place was in the opposite direction, and I couldn’t think of anywhere he’d be at this hour that would have him remotely close to my house. But I wasn’t going to think too hard on it. It didn’t matter one way or the other. I liked that he was standing on the doorstep, probably a little too much.

  “Thanks. He’s not home, but I’ll make sure he gets them tomorrow when I see him." I reached out, and he handed me the books. They were thick and hefty and felt substantial in my hand. And then we stood there and didn’t speak, both of us staring at the other, my face feeling hotter the longer I stared at him. “Okay," I said softly, mainly to break up the silence that seemed to grow between us. “I...." He tightened his jaw, and I stopped what I was about to say. That simple act shouldn’t have turned me on the way it just had.

  And the truth was, I felt a little bolder, a little more easygoing with how I felt for Mal and being around him, all thanks to that shot.

  And I had a feeling that what I was about to do might very well be a bad idea, but I was going to go through with it anyway.

  7

  Mal

  “Do you want to come inside?”

  My whole fucking body went tight and hard at her innocent enough question.

  I shifted on my feet, thankful as hell my shirt covered my crotch, because the last thing I needed Delilah to see was the raging hard-on I sported.

  She held the door open, and I stayed quiet for so long that she started moving on her feet slightly, back and forth as if she was nervous.

  “Or not. It’s okay,” she said softly, and I cursed low under my breath.

  I hated that I made her feel awkward. I’d just felt stunned by her invitation, and not because she meant anything more by it than being polite, no doubt. I just fucking wanted Delilah with a fire that burned in my veins. And so as soon as she invited me in, all I could think about was stepping over the threshold, holding nothing back, and taking her body up against mine
as I held her until she was clinging to me.

  I ran a hand over my nape and exhaled. “No. I mean, no, I’d love to come in. Thanks.”

  She gave me the hottest fucking smile, held the door open, and stepped aside. As I came inside and moved past her, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Good God. She smelled fucking incredible. Like something citrusy. My body reacted in the most physical way. My muscles felt tighter, harder, my cock jerking behind my fly as it thickened even more.

  I breathed out slowly and willed myself to calm the fuck down. While I had my back to her, I quickly reached down and adjusted my cock. By now, it didn’t matter if my shirt helped to cover my massive erection; the fucker was tenting my jeans and the damn shirt at this point.

  I heard her shut and lock the door, and I swore I felt testosterone move verily through my bloodstream. We were alone. I’d known that before I even came over here, and hell, using the stupid as hell excuse that I wanted to drop off books to Aiden, when I could have given them to him any damn time, had been the only thing I could think of.

  But she hadn’t questioned me, thank fuck, so here I was, smelling nothing but the sweet scent of Delilah and telling myself not to fuck this up. Which, I probably would.

  I heard the TV and went over to the entryway, leaning against the doorframe and staring at the screen. There was some chick-flick on, and I felt my eyebrows rise to my hairline as the couple on the television started to make out. I knew where this was headed, and it was confirmed when clothes started getting torn off and moans echoed through the air.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Delilah, who still stood by the front door. Her face was so red, her head downcast, her hair being used as a shield. And then the woman moaned especially loud, and I couldn’t hold back the smirk as Delilah’s face got impossibly redder.

  God, she was so fucking pretty when she blushed.

  “Interrupt your movie night?”

  She snapped her head up and narrowed her eyes, her full lips thinning from irritation.

  There she is, that fiery little thing I fucking love so much.

  “I mean, I can leave if you wanted to be alone?” I turned to face her, my arms crossed over my wide chest, that smirk still covering my mouth. “You know, so I don’t interrupt… anything.” Oh man, she was getting really pissed at me, and I was getting even more turned on by it. My cock was a damn lead pipe behind my fly at this point, and I had no doubt the tip was soaked with pre-cum.

  “If you’re gonna be an ass and immature, you know where the door is.” With that, she turned and headed into the kitchen.

  Although it turned me on like nothing else that I got under her skin, I didn’t want her that pissed at me.

  Get your fucking shit together, man.

  I ran a hand over the back of my hair and exhaled. This wasn’t how the night needed to go anyway. If I was going to tell Delilah how I felt, then I needed to be honest about it all and not revert to annoying her just so I could feel that thrill move through my veins.

  I followed her into the kitchen and saw her grabbing a carton of ice cream out of the freezer before shutting the door. A white cloud dissipated as soon as the door shut, and I stood back as I watched her reach for the cupboard and grab a bowl. She glanced over her shoulder and lifted a brow.

  “Ice cream?”

  I wasn’t much of a dessert guy… not unless said dessert was spread all over Delilah’s tight little body.

  Fuck, I had to keep my mind out of the gutter or this was going to be a very painful, awkward night for me.

  “Sure,” I said, because it would give me the opportunity to spend more time with her. It would be a good excuse not to have to leave.

  I stepped farther into the kitchen and saw her scooping out a few spoonsful of vanilla into the bowls. There was an array of toppings lined up on the counter by the bowls.

  “Damn, you could give Baskin Robbins a run for their money.”

  She didn’t say anything at first, but I saw a pretty little smile cover her lips. “Don’t tell Aiden,” she finally said. “But half of this shit is stuff he got, and he gives me a hard time for using it.” She glanced at me and lifted the ice cream scooper she’d just finished using to her mouth.

  Of everything holy....

  And then time stood still for me as I watched her tiny pink tongue slide out and run along the underside of that scooper. A smear of white ice cream was left on her tongue when she was done, and although I knew she hadn’t meant for that to be sexual, holy fucking shit was it ever.

  Good God.

  My pulse was right in my cock, the fucker throbbing. She broke eye contact and set the scoop in the sink then started grabbing toppings.

  “Help yourself,” she said softly, and I realized I’d been grabbing hold of the edge of the counter so tightly that when I finally let go, my fingers and knuckles ached something crazy.

  I was reaching for toppings but not paying attention to what I was throwing on the ice cream. My focus was solely on Delilah. She kept licking her fingers, toppings and melted ice cream covering those slender, feminine digits. God, she was perfect.

  She’s mine.

  She turned to face me and looked down at my bowl, her brows furrowing before she glanced up into my eyes. “Wow, a little bit of everything, huh?”

  I looked at my bowl and grimaced as I saw I legit had put a little of everything on the ice cream.

  “You’ll have to let me know how all that tastes together,” she teased and then was leading the way out of the kitchen and into the living room.

  Once we were both sitting on the couch, she reached for the remote and started flipping through movies, finally landing on a horror one. I watched her, and watched her, and watched her some more, unable to draw my attention from her.

  I fucking loved how she didn’t give two shits about eating her ice cream in front of me. I assumed most girls were weird about eating in front of a guy, but she was comfortable with me. That was clear, and it made this male pride rise up in me.

  I got a spoonful of ice cream and curled my lip in disgust as I saw how much shit I’d put on it. But I brought it to my mouth anyway and ate it, all but gagging. I wasn’t into sweets, but I could have at least stomached Plain Jane vanilla. But with all this other shit on it? Yeah. No.

  I didn’t want to be an asshole, so I ate one more spoonful before setting the bowl on the table, because there was no way I could eat any more.

  Delilah either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because she was too focused on watching the movie and enjoying her ice cream. And then, in turn, I became too focused on her eating that ice cream. I knew she didn’t mean anything sexual by it, but God I was hard as fucking granite as I watched her.

  The way she brought the spoon to her mouth and curled her perfect pink lips around the metal before swallowing had my body positively vibrating with the need to drag her onto my lap.

  And then she brought her tongue out, dragging it over the indentation of the spoon, lapping up the melted vanilla, before going back for another spoonful.

  I found it sexy as hell that she didn’t care that I was sitting right here next to her, that she ate as if she were alone.

  God, it was hot. She was hot.

  I shifted on the couch, feeling uncomfortably tight in my jeans. She looked over at me then, maybe sensing my stare, maybe feeling the couch shift, or maybe realizing I couldn’t eat any more of the ice cream.

  She looked at the bowl, lifted an eyebrow, and looked back at me. “Didn’t like it, I take it?”

  I gave her a tight-lipped smile, not wanting to be rude, but also not about to lie. She laughed softly and set her now empty bowl on the table, smoothing her hands over her pants.

  “I can’t blame you. It looked like a train wreck in that bowl.”

  I chuckled softly and ran a hand over my nape, feeling the tension running through my limbs. But her smile and laugh eased me, probably the only sound—aside from her actually speaking words—that had that effect on
me.

  “That’s all right,” she said after a moment. “I enjoyed mine enough for the both of us.”

  I felt my body sink farther into the couch as I watched her, as I imagined all the things I’d like to enjoy with her as well. My cock dug into my fly, my balls drawn up tight, and I couldn’t stop staring at her for the life of me.

  “You’re going to give me a complex if you keep doing that,” she finally said softly after long moments of silence.

  I cleared my throat. “Keep doing what?”

  She’d since rested fully back on the couch, her long, dark hair fanned out around her, the scent of her driving me wild. She was so tiny compared to me, fragile almost.

  “Staring at me.”

  Her voice was soft, and although she had every right to be weirded out that I was looking at her constantly, her voice held a different note. A note that told me—maybe—she enjoyed me looking at her.

  I didn’t respond to that, because I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t going to lie, not when I’d been caught red-handed, but the truth was I couldn’t find my fucking voice. Not when her blue eyes were trained right on me.

  “Did you mean what you said yesterday?”

  I swallowed roughly, blinking a few times to pull myself together. She’d changed subjects, thank fuck.

  “What did I say?” Fuck, was that my voice, so husky and deep?

  I saw the subtle changes in her body, the way her breathing picked up, the way her nipples became hard little beads under her shirt, the fact that her pupils dilated, and her mouth parted.

  Sweet Jesus... is she getting turned on?

  “The part where you said I looked pretty when I was annoyed at you.”

  I swallowed again and again, my throat tight, my salivary glands working overtime. It seemed like I said those words a lifetime ago. Or maybe it just felt so distant because my mind had been so consumed with telling her how I felt today.