Is it that time again already? It is! Let’s snuggle.
REMINDER: if you haven’t read Breaking News (Charlie Davies Book 11), don’t read this Date Night story! (Unless you don’t mind big spoilers.)
Table of Contents:
- Frustrated
- Very Educational
- Dingle
- Pinecone
- Genetic Material
- Sex Energy
- Thinking Out Loud
- Damp Is Sexy
- Evidence Of Vampirism
- Snackster
- A Lick In The Dark
- Armpit
- Stay Vigilant
- No Sense of Shame (FINAL CHAPTER)
CHAPTER FIVE: Genetic Material
“I’m so jealous.”
Will whirled around, taking in our obnoxiously massive room with its king bed and velvet lounges and shower window (or, as Adam and I had dubbed it, the Pervert’s Peephole). This place had been designed by an incredibly horned-up architect. Which was fine. Wasn’t like I was worried that this room was going to transfer its sex energy to me or anything, especially when that should have been the last thing on my mind. My extensive bodily injuries still hadn’t miraculously healed. Cock-blocking definitely wasn’t the entire reason I’d invited Pinecone and the goatherd up here. Cough.
“You like it?”
“It’s way nicer than our room,” said Will. “We’re staying in the Budget Boudoir.”
Adam gave me a look. I ignored him, but part of me was wondering if we should offer to swap. There was no way a guy like Adam was ever getting naked in a room that had almost certainly been used to film a porno before. (Seriously, how many other people would hire the Budget Boudoir?)
“What’s it like, your room?”
“Disgusting,” said Topher. “Seriously. Our bedroom at home is so much nicer.”
“Of course it is. You live with Will. It would be like living with Adam – everything is pristine and the sheets are soft and expensive and there are somehow never crumbs in the bed.”
“Somehow?” Adam repeated. “You just don’t eat crumbly food in the bed. It’s very easy.”
“Clearly you and I have different definitions of ‘easy’. No food in bed? Not easy.”
“It’s going to be so interesting to see how this dynamic plays out,” said Topher. “I don’t know if you’re going to be able to handle her grossness, Adam.”
“It’s OK,” I reassured Adam. “The pigs snarf up most of the food I’ve dropped.”
Topher smiled gleefully and headed for the minbar. “This is going to be better than reality TV.”
I turned to Adam, mildly concerned. OK, maybe it was more than mildly. He shrugged. “I knew what I was getting into,” he said quietly. “Besides, with the medical degree my threshold for gross stuff is pretty high.”
I poked my tongue out at Topher’s back, but he was too busy cataloguing the drinks on offer to notice.
“Scale of one to ten, how much genetic material do you reckon your room would show under a blacklight?” I asked Will. (Adam’s acceptance of my gross tendencies may have led to a minor swoon, which may have led to an overcorrection.)
Will gave me a look of horror. “Why would you put that worry in my head? I was already not super thrilled with the fact that it smelled like cigarette smoke, but you’ve just made it ten times worse.”
Topher whipped around, looking hopeful. “We could go home.”
“Not going to happen,” Will replied.
“Yeah, and if you leave now you won’t get room service,” I pointed out. “Everyone knows room service food tastes better than regular food.”
“Room service food is usually not that great,” said Adam. “Room service drinks though? Definitely better.”
“You’re just worried I’ll get crumbs in the bed.”
“The pigs aren’t here to clean up after you tonight. It’s probably better if you eat at the table. Or maybe in the shower so we can just hose it down afterwards.”
“I’ll hose you down,” I snapped.
Adam smirked. “Sounds fun.”
Shit. How dare he say something like that to me when there was a bed nearby that we were going to be sharing later tonight? My face flushed, which was great and super subtle and not at all embarrassing.
“You guys remember we’re here, right?” said Topher, sounding uncomfortable. “I don’t like the way you’re looking at each other. If I have to pour one of the bottles of distilled water over the two of you to keep you apart, I won’t hesitate.”
“Clearly the relationship conference is working OK for some people,” said Will.
“It’s not the conference,” Topher replied. “You admitted yourself that the hosts hate each other. These two are just like this – all their weird sex on a tractor and ‘he wasn’t undressing me, he was checking for injuries’ and making out while dressed as clowns and going on ironic dates to relationship conferences and –”
I put my hands on my hips. “OK, all of those things except the last one were vastly mischaracterised. Firstly, we made out against a tractor, we did not have sex on the tractor. Secondly, he was checking for injuries. I just got a little stuck in my dress and needed help taking it off and you know what, Topher? You should learn to knock anyway. Third, I was only wearing the clown wig because I was trying to cover the blood in my hair, not because either of us are into that. In fact, I’d go so far as to say we’re decidedly not into that if the nightmares we’ve both had subsequently are anything to go by.”
“Yeah, definitely not a clown guy,” Adam agreed.
“I know, babe. Don’t worry. It won’t happen again. No clown costumes, no pumpkins.”
Topher shook his head. “We need to order some drinks before I get more terrifying insights into your sex lives. I can’t handle this. I saw more than I wanted to when you were filling out that questionnaire.”
I frowned, genuinely confused. “What did you see? I was answering as Wanda anyway, so if it was something weird just assume I was in character.”
“Thank you for giving me something to latch on to, but I’m worried the thing about your pirate fantasy is real.”
“No comment. Let’s order those drinks.”
Three hours later, we were all on the hotel room floor, moderately sloshed and covered in crumbs.
“Where are the pigs when you need them?” Topher asked. “I think I have chip in my hair. I don’t even know how I got so much on me when you were the only one eating them, Charlie.”
“I was spitting them at you earlier to see how many I could land on your head.”
He frowned. “Seriously? I didn’t notice. And you got one?”
“I got three.”
Topher grinned. “Nice.”
“OK, you were officially not as disgusted by that as you should have been,” said Will. “I think we should get to bed.”
I stuck out my bottom lip. “You’re leaving already? Boring.”
“Sorry Charles,” said Will, standing and helping Topher to his feet. “Can’t stay late. Gotta add some more genetic material to the sheets in our room.”
My jaw dropped in genuine shock. A sex thing! Will said a sex thing! About my brother!
URGH!
“Sorry,” he said again, this time laughing at the look on my face. “You were the one who brought up the blacklight.”
“I don’t think I can look at you right now.”
Adam, who was sitting next to me with his head on my shoulder, laughed softly. “You probably shouldn’t have asked about the DNA in their room if you didn’t want to know.”
“I didn’t think it would be their DNA!”
“Good night, Charlie,” said Will, steering a wobbly Topher towards the door.
“Good night, Chip Spitter,” Topher called as they left.
Sighing, I climbed to my feet with a little assistance from Adam, who pulled me into a hug and kissed me on top of the head. We were alone in the room now with nothing to do but go to bed. Well, I guess we could have watched TV, but in that moment I’d forgotten it had ever been invented.
Adam never drank much, but he’d had a couple tonight. Enough to be smily and cuddly, which was very adorable and doing nothing for my self-control. He actually had me wondering how bad it would be if we, uh, participated in activities together and my leg stitches tore. Not that bad, right? I was tough. I could handle it.
“It’d hurt a lot,” said Adam, leading me to wonder if I’d accidentally been speaking aloud.
“So we probably shouldn’t…”
“Nope.”
We stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the soft white expanse before us.
“We’ve done this a bunch of times before,” I said. “All we need to do is lie in a bed and not feel each other up. You and I slept in the same bed and kept our hands off each other back when I was single, before I even got with James. We can absolutely do it now.”
He gave me a look.
“What? What does that expression mean?” Like I didn’t know.
“Even back then I wasn’t thinking platonic thoughts.” I felt my face and chest grow warmer as he spoke. “Were you?”
“Of course. I’m a saint.” I frowned. “You realise I was still a teenager then, right?”
“Please don’t remind me. I felt creepy enough at the time.”
“You’re not that many years older than me. Not enough for it to be weird.” I paused. “Are you?”
“You seriously don’t know how old I am?”
“You won’t even tell me what day your birthday is. Of course I don’t know your age.”
“Do you want me to tell you what date it is or by this point would you rather just figure it out yourself?”
I thought for a moment. “I know it’s December. I know it’s in the twenties. I’m leaning towards the twenty-third.”
He smiled. “Why the twenty-third?”
“It just feels like your kind of number.”
Next thing I knew, Adam was sitting on the edge of the bed and I was straddling his lap, hands in his hair and tongue in his mouth.
Whoops.
Copyright © 2021 by Clare Kauter
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