One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,47

I know something else.

I’m not the kind of girl who bangs guys in a public restroom.

I’m not squeamish, and I’m not opposed to quickies. But there is nothing more annoying than needing to pee and having to wait ages because someone else is locked in the restroom.

Maybe Luna was that girl.

Maybe she wasn’t.

Maybe they messed around someplace else in the diner.

But I’m sure I’m not that girl.

Yet I’m also keenly aware I’m not immune to this man, nor do I want to be.

I let the door fall closed, stepping back into the alcove with the posters, next to him.

He’s inches away, and he lifts a brow in curiosity.

“I figure if you’d sell your soul to end coffee shop phone calls, we can’t do that. But I can do this.” I cup his cheek, run my thumb along his jaw, and rise up to meet his mouth.

I kiss him.

Soft and tender.

A journey across his lips.

As I go, I record the sights and sounds. I savor the sweet taste of his mouth, the syrup and pancake flavor of him that’s more enticing than carbs and sugar should be.

Or maybe he’s exactly as enticing as that combo is.

Wait. Make that better.

Because after he sets down the bag, he loops an arm around my waist, yanks me closer, and hauls me in for a deeper kiss.

His lips are hungry, eager. He explores my mouth, kissing me like he wants to remember every second of this, like every moment is worth capturing. He moans as he kisses, and he tugs as he kisses too, pulling me impossibly closer to him in the back of the diner.

His hand slides down to my ass, and he grabs my cheek, groaning as his body presses to mine, his pelvis rubbing against me. I can feel the weight of him, the hard length of him.

He kisses harder, pushes more fiercely, like he’s trying to imprint his desire on me. Make sure there’s no mistaking it.

But it’s not like I could mistake this for anything other than what it is—two people who want another time.

Maybe we should call this movie Two-Night Stand. Or maybe the Morning-After Stand.

My skin sizzles with desire. My brain goes hazy. Perhaps I am that girl.

I might as well be banging him in the bathroom. Because we’re this close to having the Wendy’s Diner special too.

That’s exactly what I want to avoid.

Somehow I find the will to stop, sliding my hands up his firm chest and pressing gently but insistently.

He steps back, breathing heavily, his eyes hazy with lust. He rakes a hand through his hair.

“Too bad we can’t do that,” he says, his voice gravelly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I say.

“Oh, don’t worry. I got the message that you wanted to as badly as I did,” he says, that cocky side of him stepping right up to the plate.

And the thing is—I like this cocky side of him. I like the confident man he is. I like the way he’s owning his attraction to me. I want to feel the heat of his fire, because he does the same to me. He sets me aflame.

But that’s the trouble.

We discovered last night we have a crazy kind of sexual chemistry. If we keep discovering it, mining it over and over, we might exhaust the newfound supply of friendship.

“Yes, my friend,” I say. “I do want to climb you in front of Humphrey Bogart. But remember, we’re the responsible ones.”

He huffs. “Why are you reminding me of that? My dick doesn’t want to be responsible.”

As tempting as it is to slide a hand over his jeans, to cup him and stroke him and drive him as wild as he drives me, I force myself to focus. “Let’s go figure out the lottery thing. We can go to the tango place tonight.”

He glances down at his erection, which shows no sign of abating. “Yes, she’s totally frustrating. I know. Trust me, buddy, I know.”

Laughing, I tug him by the hand. He picks up the bag, and we walk through the diner. Out of the corner of my mouth, I whisper, “Your dick is your buddy?”

He juts out his chin. “What else would he be? He’s my closest buddy. We do everything together.”

“Can your buddy think? Because maybe he can get in on the lottery conundrum,” I ask as we exit onto Madison Avenue, where we’re greeted by exhaust fumes from a bus trundling to a stop.

“My buddy has all sorts of ideas. However, most of them