Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

It was painful to sit up and move away. Behind him, Tasha reached to the floor for the abandoned sheets and as he clicked on his cell phone he was sad to see her cover herself.

His sister responded immediately. “Junior, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt, but when I called Mom and Dad, they assumed you’d come and get me. You said your date was still hush-hush so I couldn’t tell them…shit. I’m sorry.”

Damn it, no. “Back up two paces, sis. Where are you, and why do you need a ride?”

“We went for coffee, Jamie and I, and I didn’t feel like… Well, I convinced him to leave me there. But my car won’t start, so I called Mom and Dad…”

And since he normally would have no problems coming to his sister’s rescue, they’d immediately thought of him. “It’s okay. Where you at?”

She told him, and even as he cursed his luck he was kind of grateful she’d had the sense to not go home with the guy. “I’ll come and get you. Give me a few minutes. Oh, and phone Mom and Dad and tell them to stop calling me.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Me too.” He stared at Tasha. A frown marred her face, the bed sheet tucked under her arms. Her nipples poked against the front of the material and his body ached with the need to rip the thin fabric away and start all over again. “Later.”

He hung up and groaned at the injustice of it. The woman of his dreams was in his bed, and he had to leave to rescue his sister. Life was hellish at times.

“Maxine needs a ride?” Tasha scooted to the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to go get her?”

He dropped beside her and pulled her back into his arms. “What I want is to have the phone never have been invented. I want to be making love with you, not doing a mercy drive.”

There was no way to stop from kissing her, his hands automatically slipping under the sheet to caress her naked skin.

She pushed him away.

“Maxine will be waiting. You can’t leave her alone out there.”

He swore. “I know.” He adjusted his cock, striving to find more room for the damn thing. He pulled on a T-shirt as he paced the room. Tasha’s gaze followed him intently.

“Will you still be here when I get back?” he asked. Oh God, you have to still be here.

Tasha paused. “I should go home, Max. I hate to leave, but you have no idea when you’ll get back. I don’t want to make you rush. Deal with Maxine, and we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

Fuck. Talking was not what was on his mind. “I could come to your place.”

She nodded slowly.

He wasn’t an idiot, not even with his brain fogged with lust. Somewhere in the last two minutes the whole thing had broken down. Between the passion that had flashed between them and the damn phone calls, she’d started thinking again, not in a good way. Damn it all to hell.

Dragging his brain back into working mode was rough. The raging fever in his body wanted nothing more than to order Maxine a taxi and spend the rest of the night in bed with Tasha. Yet, maybe—although his body thought he was an absolute idiot—maybe stopping before they went all the way wasn’t a bad thing.

His body complained mightily—it’s a real bad thing.

She’d said they were going to be friends only. He wanted more. Just because they’d started as friends didn’t mean they had to remain that way. A frantic first rutting wasn’t the kind of memory that would bring up romantic and heartwarming images, no matter how hot and bothered they both were.

Although he was convinced he was absolutely and totally insane even to suggest this.

He went for nonchalant. “How about we have lunch tomorrow? We can get all the details squared away that we have to. There’s got to be some dating involved in this as well as everything else, right?”

The look of relief that crossed her face showed he’d made the right decision. “That’s probably the easiest way to break it to the Turner clan without raising a ton of suspicion. Can we make it dinner? I have a full slate of projects tomorrow.”

Max hurried back to her side for one last brief kiss, just to torment himself. The touch of her skin and her hair as he cupped the back of her neck in his hand made it even harder to leave. “Keep my keys. I’ve got another set. Lock up when you leave, and I’ll call you in the morning.”

Then he dragged himself from the room and out of the house, wondering what he’d done wrong to get the fates upset with him. Giving him his heart’s desire and simultaneously wrapping him in chains.

Tasha was ready to kill someone.

More specifically, her friend, Lila. Maxine Turner was a close second, followed immediately by a whole myriad of Turners who popped to mind. It had been over a week since she’d agreed to Maxwell’s proposal, and after that first abortive night together, their luck had gone from bad to downright impossible. Maxine had been the first to keep them apart—the first in a long line of interrupted attempts.

Max had sent her the sweetest note that next morning along with a single yellow rose. Something to the effect of not rushing things, making sure that they felt established as a couple within the family. It was the rose that said the most—he hadn’t tried for anything other than friendship, and that helped to neatly tuck away a few fears.

The fears that had instantly flooded her mind when they’d been interrupted. Oh my God, the realization they were actually going to try to get her pregnant had hit hard enough to knock the lust right out of her. It was way more involved than simply hopping in the sack. If that’s all it required, she would have called him over, jumped him, then sent him on his way immediately after. While she wanted to keep this as uncomplicated as possible, there was a much bigger reality to face. They were going to be together for a long time, and finding a way to make the whole relationship work…seemed like there had to be more than just giving into the physical attraction she would now admit she felt between them.

He was a great guy. Smart, honest. But the physical pull was there, and if he was in the same boat as her—he must be totally sexually frustrated. She’d at least gotten off that first night. Guilt rolled over her. He’d given her two orgasms already and not seen a bit of his own release. So much for all guys being selfish bastards—in this relationship it had been all her taking and him giving.

But every date they’d set up since his Gramma’s party had ended in disaster. They’d begun to share the news that they were an item. While most of the clan hadn’t raised a brow, they couldn’t simply jump into bed without people wondering what was going on. This was still a small town, and slow and steady was the norm, at least for any lasting relationship.

She threw another dart, spearing into the spare piece of drywall she’d nabbed from the construction site and propped up as a way of releasing tension. Her aim was getting better all the time, especially as she’d dealt with a mass of anxiety this past week.

Enough. This wasn’t acceptable. She couldn’t get pregnant if they didn’t have sex. They couldn’t have sex if they didn’t see each other. She picked up the phone and called him.

“At your service, my lady.”

Didn’t she wish? “You planning on bringing that servicing over here, big guy? I’m thinking some sex on the desk would be fine right about now.”

Dead air greeted her from the other end of the line. Damn, the ease with which the explicit words slipped from her lips was proof again of how comfortable she was around him.

“Max? You okay?”

He growled at her. “No. I’m hard as a steel bat, and the images of bending you over your desk and fucking you silly are not helping the matter. I thought we agreed—I’m not taking you up against the wall or over the couch or on your desk our first time. Stop driving me insane, woman.”

Holy shit. Yeah, that was descriptive enough to make her head spin and an ache start between her thighs. This was her fault for having sex on the brain. “Okay, now you’ve gone and done it. Thanks for getting my motor running when I just wanted to be nice and set up a date.”

“My motor has been burning out on high for years, and we’ve had dates. Catastrophes, every one of them. Well, they’ve been great dates in the visiting department, but lousy in the sex department. You can’t get pregnant having ice tea and fruit salad. Or through a telephone. Bell invented a great contraceptive.”

She laughed. “Hey, you need to claim responsibility for half those disasters. The night I tried sleeping over at your place, I’m not the one who caved when the family showed up. An impromptu lawn party is one thing, but people deciding to stay and camp for the night kind of put a damper on things.”

“You let Lila crash on your couch the night I was over…”

Shit. “I nearly revoked her BFF papers that night.”

“Damn it, Tasha, this is insane. I think I had more opportunities for sex back when I was a teenager.”

“Oh, so long ago, right?”

“Shut it.” He laughed though, and something warm swept over her. The whole situation was ridiculous, but in spite of their no-show in the sex department, she was happy so far with her decision to let him into her life. Even now, getting to laugh with him over their frustrations—it boded well for the future. If they were going to raise a child together, getting along was important.

“What are you up to today, Max? Shall we try for another date just to see what the Turner clan can come up with to keep us apart?”

Loud beeping noises filled the background, a door slammed and Maxwell sighed. “Ah, fuck it. I’m now officially hiding out. Someone from the manor house decided this week would be a good time for fixing the water main. There are backhoes and tractors in the side yard, all of them growling and making so much noise I’m never going to get any work done. I’m going to have to give up and hit a coffee shop to find some peace and quiet.”