“This is more than we agreed to,” she argues with the floor.
I swallow, not sure how to explain why I’m willing to go to such lengths to her. I don’t discuss our family dynamics, not with anyone. Well, Zack sometimes, but we talk more about last night’s game or upcoming deals than our deep, dark emotions. It’s just not what guys do.
“It is. I swear I’ll make it up to you somehow. But for now, let’s stick with the plan. Bed, breakfast, portfolio talk, art tour.” I tick off the agenda items on my fingers, and she lifts her eyes to watch.
I feel the submission in her body even though she doesn’t say a word, so I turn her to the dresser. “Let’s find some pajamas.”
She nods woodenly but lets me guide her over, where we discover Elena was right. There’s every size of T-shirt, sweatshirt, and sweatpants in the drawers. Not to mention socks, underwear, swimsuits, and flip-flops, all neatly folded and placed. Luna grabs an oversized sweatshirt and socks, holding them to her chest as though they’re a shield. “I’m changing in the bathroom.”
When she closes the door behind her, I fight to keep my chuckle quiet. She acted like I asked her to strip right here in front of me or might follow her in to sneak a peek.
Instead, I grab a pair of sweatpants of my own and make quick work of changing before she comes out. I’m still hanging up my clothes when the bathroom door opens.
“Want me to hang up your dress?” I offer. But when I turn around, Luna doesn’t have her dress in her hands or anywhere else. It’s just her . . . in a sweatshirt that hangs long, cupping the fullness of her hips and then the middle of her thighs. Her socks are pulled up, hitting just below her knees.
There’s only a small strip of her legs showing, but I can’t tear my eyes away from it. It’s like a magnet, pulling me in while at the same time powering . . . thoughts. Ones I shouldn’t have, not about Luna.
“I hung it up in there.” She points over her shoulder with her thumb and then starts gnawing on the digit nervously. “Uhm, where are you sleeping? You’re not sleeping with me.”
“There’s a couch right there.” My voice is too low, too rough when I think about us in bed together doing everything but sleeping, but she doesn’t notice, thankfully.
“Okay.” She agrees easily but then moves toward the couch herself, pulling a quilt from the foot of the bed.
I can’t help but grin. There’s something quaint and cute about the way she looks padding across the room in a long shirt with a blanket in tow. “I meant that I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Oh.” She freezes like a deer in the headlights before redirecting to the bed. She climbs up, throws the decorative pillows to the floor to make room for herself, and then pulls the bedding back. The whole time, she’s on her knees, her ass sticking out, and my palms itch to grab her, dent the supple flesh there, or maybe see what it takes to make it flush like her cheeks did.
The dirty turn of my thoughts shocks me. I mean, this is Luna. She’s not my type, and she’s Zack’s sister. Hell, if she breathes one word of what’s happening tonight to Zack, he’ll skin me alive and I won’t even try to stop him. But she’s also voluptuous in a way that makes me want to suffocate in her breasts and drown between her thighs.
Wait, what?
“You don’t think she’d expect us to have sex, do you? Like as a young, newly married couple?” The words pop out as a result of the path my mind has disappeared down. As if Elena is outside our door listening or something.
From her spot on the bed, Luna says dryly, “I’m not having sex with you.”
“We could fake it,” I suggest, grinning foolishly, continuing down this nonsense path. This is a bad idea, a really bad idea. But also, maybe a brilliant one. If we needed to sell the husband-and-wife image, this surely will.
Luna pushes her glasses up her nose as she looks at me carefully. “What do you mean?”
I don’t explain. I climb on the bed with her, making sure to stay on top of the covers, but when she gasps in surprise, I wink and rise to my hands and knees beside her, on my own side of the bed. I shake the bed back and forth a few times, testing to see if it squeaks.
No luck. This is no IKEA bed. This is one of those heavy-duty, luxury deals meant to last until doomsday, and then some.
I shake it harder, finally getting a little movement, enough for the headboard to touch the wall. It’s not a bang, exactly, but when I do it again, the rhythm is unmistakable.
“Carter!” Luna hisses, her eyes widening in horror.
I stifle a laugh at how scandalized she seems. Instead, I grunt a little before groaning out, “Ohhh, Luna.”
“Don’t say my name like that!” she whispers hotly.
“Like what?” I keep my pace. Bang, bang, bang.
“All grunty, groany caveman like that. It’s gross.” She wrinkles her nose in distaste, but I can hear something in her tone. The lady doth protest too much. It makes me grin harder and bang a little louder.
Keeping my voice down, I ask, “Are you a prude in bed?” Offended, she pulls the blanket up to her chin and I smirk triumphantly. “Figured.”
I keep a steady tempo, changing my position every few moments to make the headboard banging sound different. I even find a spot in the mattress that does creak a little, and I bounce on it. “That’s it . . . good girl. Take all of me. I know you can,” I order, as though someone is obeying. “Squeeze it for me . . . fuck yeah.” I’m enjoying the play of emotions that cross her face—horror, interest, desire, denial.
Luna’s grip on the blanket has gone slack, her tongue slipping out to wet her lips. “Is that what you really say when you’re . . . doing that?” She makes a gesture, motioning to me.
“Depends on what they like,” I answer quietly. “Why? Was I wrong? Does sweet, little Luna like a bit of dirty talk in her fucking?”
Her cheeks flush and then her fire is back. With a determined set of her jaw, she kicks the covers off, plants her feet on the bed, and starts bouncing on her own, her hips bridging up into the air before dropping to the mattress. “Oh, Carter! Yessss,” she moans in a voice a solid octave higher than her own. “Make it hurt, baby!”
I’m shocked to the core for a solid two seconds before I realize she’s playing along.
Two more seconds of watching her hips rise and fall, her tits bouncing with every move.
She lifts one brow, challenging me.
I join in, and it quickly turns into a competition of who can say the most outlandish thing as we bounce and bang in a ridiculous simulation of sex that’s louder and more acrobatic than any I’ve ever actually had.
“Make that pussy suck me dry. I wanna fill you up, breed you with my seed.” Bang, bang, bang.
She whispers, “Gross.” Louder, for the show, she cries out, “Choke me, Daddy!”
Those words coming from Luna’s mouth surprise me. In my mind, I can see my hand wrapped around her throat, putting the slightest pressure as we get closer and closer to coming simultaneously. And even though we’re faking, my dick is rock hard. Strictly biological, I assure myself. It’s not because I want Luna. That would be an unbelievably huge mistake, especially for a one-night stand.