Smug Bastard - Stacey Marie Brown Page 0,61

graduated in finance. I only took one class in marketing.”

“So?”

“So… the money is better in finance and marketing/PR is extremely hard to get into. I mean, anyone can start their own company, but it’s difficult to survive in the industry with such a flood in the market, especially when I don’t have a degree in that.”

“You’d rather spend your life doing something you hate?”

“No.”

“Okay… design my logo. What would it look like?”

“For you?” She squinted up at me. “I’d make it different from everyone else. A little sexier.”

“What?” I snorted. “Me without my shirt on?”

“Do you know how much business you’d get?” She motioned to me. “But no. Though probably not too far off.” She tapped her lip. “Maybe a dark outline of a guy…” She coughed. “You. A shirtless guy with hot, toned body with a construction hat and hammer over his shoulder walking out from a built house like he just slayed the bitch, and S.B. Construction underneath.”

“Shit.” I blinked. “You came up with that off the top of your head?”

“I was joking.”

“Joking?” I sputtered, my mind racing with the idea of it. “That’s a perfect logo. Especially in Los Angeles. Jesus, be like chum in the water.” All the bored, rich Hollywood housewives wanting to build their next house or an expansion on their huge mansion. They were actually the ones hiring and working with the contractors, while their husbands sat in an office, his name attached as some producer to a film.

“Don’t think you’re getting it for free.” She leaned in, nipping my lip. “There will be a heavy price tag.”

“Since I have no business yet, no money coming in, how do I pay off my bill?” My hand slid over her ass, pulling her into me. Already hard, my dick screamed to be inside her again.

“Hmmm… guess we’ll have to work out a payment plan.” Her voice was low and taunting in my ear; her leg hooked higher onto mine, her mouth claiming mine. “Might take a while to pay off. Like years.”

Shit! Tell her. She needs to know the truth. You’re being a spineless bastard.

“Kins…” I tipped away, breaking the kiss. Shit, was I going to do this? Would she understand or run as fast as she could, despising me?

“Shhh.” She pushed me on my back, crawling over me, straddling me, racing the blood straight to my already hard cock. “Too much talking.”

“And here I was trying to have a meaningful conversation with you.” I feigned hurt.

“Later.” She dragged her hips over me, curving my head deeper into the pillow. “Right now, shut up while I ride you.”

Damn. Who was I to argue with that?

“Come on.” I reached for her hand crossing the street, dodging both the horse carriages full of tourists and the cars on Decatur Street, the prominent St. Louis Cathedral spiking up into the blue, hot summer sky behind us. “If I don’t feed you soon, I think your stomach will attack me like in Alien.” I winked over at her.

After another round of mind-blowing sex, we jumped into the shower, where her stomach started to demand nutrients. She only had half a po’boy, and we burned a shitload of calories last night.

It was late morning after a night of drinking and amazing sex, and there was only one place to go.

“It will.” Her fingers laced with mine as we jogged around the traffic. The smell of fried dough, coffee, and sugar had my stomach rumbling just as loud. “I wouldn’t risk it. It’s not pretty if it goes unfed.”

“Really?” I tugged her into me on the sidewalk. “Good thing I am about to fill it with the best beignets in the city.”

“Very lucky.” She went up on her toes, her mouth brushing mine.

If I expected awkwardness between us, I was wrong. It was so comfortable and natural with her, turning me into a guy I never imagined. Touchy, flirty, holding hands, and staring at her like a fool, knowing all I wanted to do was take her back to the room.

For fuck sake, I was smiling, and I wasn’t really a smiling kind of guy. But here I was, grinning like a giddy douchebag.

I had been with a lot of women, but very few were more than once, and most less than a few weeks before I was out the door, having no desire to go back. Even at eighteen with a goddess like Angie, I never got giddy or felt like this. With Kinsley, I wanted more, feeling I