The Bacelor: Make A Sex Deal

Man, that girl was caring and motherly.

Nurturing.

My dick was fucking throbbing.

Hannah wrapped her arms around Oaklyn. “I love you.”

“Go kick his ass,” Oaklyn replied. “Or better yet, show him why you’re an ass-kicker.”

Hannah released her and moved over to me. “If you want to stay and hang instead of going back to Mom and Dad’s, just crash in my bed. If I’m lucky enough to come home before morning, I’ll climb in with Oaklyn.” She hugged me. “I don’t know if I’ll see you before you leave, and I hate that. Hard.”

What I hated was that I’d only come home for a long weekend, I was flying back to Boston tomorrow, and this was the first time I’d seen Hannah. The previous evenings, she’d been too slammed with work and babysitting our cousin Ford’s daughter to get together with me.

I set my hand on top of her baseball hat, lifting the brim to see more of her face. “Hang in there. You’re going to get through this.”

She gave me the smallest of nods. “See you at spring break?”Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

“I might go to Mexico with some friends.”

Where Hannah had opted to do her internship her final semester, I’d chosen the fall semester, so that freed up my spring break, and now, I only had to focus on school and prepping for the bar.

She sighed. “You mean, you might come home and hang with your sister because she’s your fave.”

I smiled.

As much as I loved her, that wasn’t going to happen.

She knew that, and she returned my expression with a frown. “See you guys later.”

I watched her leave, and the second the door clicked, I turned to Oaklyn. She was in front of the couch, less than ten feet away, eating a Nutella brownie my sister had baked, a full plate of them on the coffee table.

I pointed at the door. “Should I get out of here too?”

She covered her mouth, a chunk of fudgy brownie at the tip of one of her fingers. “No. Stay. I’m just going to eat the rest of these and finish drinking the rest of that. You can join me.”

These were the brownies.

That was the wine, and there were several more bottles in addition to the one sitting on the table.

I took a seat on the opposite side of the couch, catching a glimpse of her licking the gooey dough off her nail.

The way her tongue scooped.

The way her teeth nipped her flesh.

The way her cheeks sank in as she sucked the remainder of the dessert off her skin.

Fuck.

Me.

Oaklyn and my sister had been friends for as long as I could remember, so she was a girl I’d grown up with. A girl I’d seen grow through every physical stage, starting with the adorable, pigtailed princess, morphing into the sultry twenty-four-year-old woman she was now.

She finished chewing, and her piercing blue gaze connected with mine. “Just a little bit longer, and you’ll be moving back here.” She grabbed her wine from the table and tucked her legs beneath her. “Hannah will be so happy. All she talks about is how much she misses you.”

And I missed her.

But I’d chosen Boston for my undergraduate degree and New York for law school because I knew, ultimately, I would be joining The Dalton Group as soon as I graduated, so I just wanted to get away for a handful of years and have some fun outside of LA and the usual crowd we hung around with.

Besides, choosing Harvard and NYU had meant I could pave my way with a reputation I earned all on my own.

And I’d certainly done that-with the ladies and my professors, neither of whom would ever forget my name, although for entirely different reasons.

“I’m ready to come back,” I admitted, reaching for my vodka. “Ready to get a place of my own and take the bar and start work. Declan’s not going to hold the title of the top litigator for long.”

“Oh, yeah?” She laughed. “Well, you’re going to have to fight your sister on that. She’s after the same title, and she would like nothing more than to rip it away from that dick.”

That fucking word.

I wanted to hear her moan it.

“It’s been a while since we’ve caught up. Tell me about you, Oaklyn. How’s the marketing world? And your dating life? Seeing anyone serious?” I settled into the corner, fixing the pillow to give me a better angle to view her.

And what a view it was.

Oaklyn had this natural look about her-creamy skin and the most arresting sapphire eyes, puffy pink lips that she constantly licked, the wetness she left behind always making them glossy. There weren’t many women who could pull off a clean, makeup-free face and still look fucking breathtaking.

But that was her.

I’d seen her in the morning when she just crawled out of bed, after a full day of skiing when she was soaked in sweat, in a bikini following hours of being in the ocean. I’d also seen her in a gown at prom when her lids were painted and her cheeks were glowing and her lips were red.

Tonight was the way I preferred her.

Raw, unpainted.

Innocent.

She let out a huff of air, her cheeks beginning to flush.

Something told me it wasn’t from the wine.

“Marketing is going great. I just got promoted to senior account manager, and my book of business is triple from when I first started with the company. I’m working with the dreamiest brands, and within a year or two, I should have enough to buy my first condo.”

“Impressive.”

She drew in a deep breath. “My dating life … not so impressive.”

“Why is that?”

She held the glass near her chin, watching me, but not drinking. After several seconds passed, she tilted the opening, allowing some of the wine to trickle in between those invitingly plump lips. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” She let out a small giggle. “This is my second glass of wine. I don’t know what’s going to come out of my mouth at this point.”