Start Me Up: Nolan and Shelby (Man of the Month Book 4) Read online

  Not that Nolan really minded—he understood the way the business worked, and without sponsors, he was without work. And he was a big fan of the steady paycheck and the wonders that it could buy, food and shelter being tops of the list.

  He just wished that the happy couple were people he’d met even once before. And he definitely wished that Lauren and Senator Studmuffin would accidentally fall in the river.

  He’d skipped the actual nuptials, figuring that neither bride nor groom nor their assorted relatives would notice his absence. And he’d offered his congratulations to the happy couple not long after the reception began, telling Brian how much he admired his father and complimenting the bride on her beautiful gown. She looked vaguely familiar, but since he was certain he’d never slept with her, he didn’t waste too much time trying to place her.

  Now, he was making the circuit—seeing and being seen until it was safe to cut and run.

  When he saw the senator, he ducked around a partition that separated the main area from a makeshift cloakroom, and found himself face-to-face with Lauren.

  Yup. An all around stellar evening.

  “Nolan,” she said, in a voice that dripped distaste. Honestly, how they’d shared a house for six months was one of the questions of the universe. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Isn’t there a monster truck rally tonight? Or a geek conference?”

  “That was our problem, Lauren. You never even looked at me.”

  “The hell I didn’t. The problem was that I did look, and I didn’t respect what I saw. No ambition. I mean, minimum wage at some podunk radio station. We could have moved to LA.”

  “Not interested,” he said. Once upon a time, he might have liked to be a big city DJ, but after he realized how much reading and paperwork the job actually entailed, the bloom on that dream faded. More than that, though, he loved Austin. He loved the people he worked with and the audience he’d built. He’d worked his ass off, and if Lauren couldn’t see that—well, honestly, he didn’t really give a fuck if she couldn’t see that.

  Except he did. Or, at least, he had.

  Now, he realized, it wasn’t Lauren’s respect he wanted. It was another woman’s. A woman who looked just as sexy in grandma-pumps and a shirt buttoned up to her collar as she did in fuck-me heels and a skin-tight dress. A woman he wished was by his side right then so he didn’t have to suffer through this damn wedding by himself. No, he corrected, he wished that she wanted to be by his side. Too bad that wish wouldn’t be coming true. After all, she’d made it pretty damn clear that despite the chemistry between them, she was putting the kibosh on any more explosions.

  And, hell, he should be fine with that. Wasn’t Lauren the reason he didn’t date, unless you counted fucking, which he didn’t. Dating was a relationship—a train in forward motion. A process of learning the subtle ins and outs of a woman and seeing if you fit together.

  He wanted to walk that path with Shelby, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to rip that desire out of his head preyed on him, especially since she was so very clearly uninterested.

  “You know what?” Lauren said, her sharp voice jarring him from more pleasant thoughts, “I stand corrected. You do have ambition. But the things you aspire to simply don’t interest me. Call me crazy, but it’s never been my dream to come up with the perfect fart joke. Or to make fun of my own sex life. Then again,” she added with a tight smile, “I guess yours probably is something to laugh about. At least, that’s the way I remember it.”

  “Dammit, Lauren—”

  “Down, boy,” she said. “We’re just talking. That’s all you were doing on your radio show the other day, right? Teeth marks? Chilly vibes?” She leaned forward. “And you’re right, Nolan, sweetie. Because I’m married to a senator now. I can bite your head off if I want. And all you’ll be able to do about it is fire off a lame joke about your limp dick.”

  She patted him on the cheek, her painted lips pulled into a tight smile, then turned her back and walked away, wiggling her very toned ass in her very high heels.

  “Bitch.” He didn’t mean to speak aloud, but he couldn’t hold it in, and a woman coming around the partition with a ticket to claim her checked purse frowned at him with distaste.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, feeling lower than a gutter. He went the opposite direction, sidling around the partition and ending up in some sort of darkened staging area that the hotel staff seemed to be using for dirty dishes. He drew a breath, gathering himself before he went out to say his final goodbyes, then realized he wasn’t alone.

  “I’m sorry,” Shelby said. She reached for him, appeared to think better of it, and dropped her hand. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

  “No problem,” he said, the words coming out harsher than he’d intended. “Why wouldn’t you be here to put a fucking cherry on my fucking perfect day?” He drew a breath, then shook his head, irritated with himself. “Sorry to have invaded your hideaway. I’ll get going.”

  “Wait.” This time when she reached for him, she held on, her hand warm and soft and very strong. He lifted his head prepared to tell her that he’d had a shit day and wasn’t in the mood for games, but if she thought he’d ruined her perfect little life, too, then he’d be happy to introduce her to Lauren and they could swear some sort of blood oath and promise each other lifelong fealty.

  But he never said the words, because she took a step closer, looked him right in the eyes, and said, “She’s a bitch. And she’s wrong. And—”

  He had no idea what came next, because that’s when he pulled her close, then shut her up with a long, slow kiss.

  Chapter Ten

  His kiss destroyed her.

  Shelby’s head spun, her legs went weak, and the only thought she had in her head was that she wanted more. She hadn’t planned this—hell, she’d only wanted to tell him that his ex was an idiot—but the instant that Nolan’s lips touched hers, she was lost.

  Maybe she should have realized. After all, she’d been craving him for days. He’d stolen into her dreams and barged into her thoughts. She’d spent hours justifying her decision to stay away when the only thing her body wanted was him since the moment he’d walked away Thursday morning.

  Some small voice inside her head told her this was insane. That she should walk away now before she regretted it. That with this man she’d be risking more than her heart, she’d be risking her dreams—her plans.

  She told the damn voice to shut up. She didn’t care about protests or plans or the future. All she knew was now. And all she wanted was him.

  What was it Hannah had said? That she should take a chance? Well, maybe Hannah hadn’t convinced her, but Nolan’s kisses were very, very persuasive.

  “Nolan. Oh, God,” she moaned as his mouth moved to her neck, her earlobe. He was working his magic on her, and heat flowed in her veins, a wild burning passion that his kisses only stoked, making her burn hotter and hotter until she was certain that she would simply combust in his arms.

  She turned her head, forcing their mouths together again, and her fingers twined in his hair as she held him, tasted him. Christ, she craved him, and she opened her mouth to his, demanding he deepen the kiss, wanting to consume and be consumed.

  She lost herself in the taste of him, in the taint of pain as his teeth tugged on her lower lip. In the coppery tang of blood from the violent clashing of their mouths and teeth. It wasn’t enough—it wasn’t nearly enough. And even when he pulled away, his mouth closing over the halter of her dress so that he sucked her nipple through the material, and his hands started to slide under her skirt, she simply wanted more. So badly—so desperately—that when he pulled away and stood in front of her, she actually whimpered.

  “Don’t stop. God, Nolan, please don’t stop.”

  “Hell no,” he said. “But we need to take a short recess to find a better place fast. Otherwise, I’m taking you in the ladies’ room and locking us into a stall.”

  “No good,” she teased. “No way I could stay q
uiet enough.”

  He chuckled. “Good. I like your noises. I like to make you scream.”

  “Make me come and I’ll scream as loud as you want,” she murmured, and Nolan tilted his head back and laughed.

  “What?”

  “Listen to you. How many people know what naughty things can come out of that mouth? You with your sensible shoes and your tweed jacket and your tailored button down shirts.”

  She lifted her brows. “From anyone else, I’d think I’d been insulted.”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “Not even close. You’re my fantasy, baby. Did you know that? Because you’re all mine.” His eyes searched hers as his fingertip stroked her cheek. “No one else sees the woman I do.”

  She swallowed. “Nolan…”

  “You gave that to me, Shelby, whether you meant to or not.”

  His words were like a soft rain, and she soaked them in, knowing he was right. He saw a part of her no one else did. Certainly not Alan, who’d probably die from shock if he had even an inkling of the things she’d done and said with Nolan.

  “Do you have any idea how much of a turn on that is?” Nolan asked. “Knowing we have this secret? That you’ve shared something so intimate with me?”

  “I do,” she whispered. “Because if I’m your fantasy, then you’re my muse.” She brushed a kiss over his lips. “I’ve never done these things with anyone,” she told him. “You inspire me.”

  “Do I? What are you inspired to do now?”

  “Nothing we can do right here,” she said, then laughed.

  “Where, then?”

  “I know.” She took his hand. “Come on.”

  She and the other girls from Brandywine had rented a room at the hotel for the night. No one intended to actually stay in it, but that way they had a private place to rest, leave make-up, change clothes if they needed to, and simply get away from the crowd if it all became too overwhelming.

  “I had four cousins get married over six months,” Kayla had said when she’d suggested the room. “Trust me when I say it’s totally worth the expense.”

  Right about now, Shelby was enthusiastically agreeing with Kayla’s assessment. All the other girls were still in the ballroom dancing and gossiping and drinking champagne. Which meant that the room was entirely free—and Shelby intended to take full advantage.

  “You have a room?” Nolan asked as she led him to the door at the end of an eighth floor hall.

  “I believe in being prepared,” she said, then added, “Call it the girl-power staging area,” as she led him into the clothing strewn, make-up scattered housekeeping horror that came from five girls sharing a room. Even if it was only to change and freshen up.

  He glanced around. “Are we alone?”

  “Completely,” she said, finishing the word on a gasp because he had her back up against the wall, her arms above her head, her crossed wrists held tight in his hand. She was helpless, and he moved in fast, taking her mouth with his, claiming her, controlling her.

  His lips possessed her. Owned her. And his free hand led an exploratory charge, pulling her breasts free from the halter-style bodice. “You look good enough to eat,” he teased before lowering his mouth to her breast.

  He scraped his teeth along her nipple, causing a wild sensation to build in her sex. She moaned, squeezing her legs together and shifting her hips, hoping to increase the friction.

  “Someone likes.”

  “Someone does,” she confirmed, then gasped at the sound of footsteps stopping right outside the door.

  “Fuck,” she whispered as she shifted out from under him, took his hand, and sprinted for the bathroom.

  They burst in and locked the bathroom door before her anonymous roomie burst through the main door. A moment of muffled noise, then the bathroom door knob rattled. Shelby glanced at Nolan, who actually looked amused, the bastard.

  “I’m in here,” she said, sitting on the edge of the tub because her legs were shaky. “I’m a little sick.”

  “Oh no,” Leslie said. “Let me in and we’ll help you out.”

  “Oh, God, no,” she said, but not in response to Leslie’s comment, but to the fact that Nolan had dropped to the ground, spread her knees, and buried his face between her legs.

  “What?” Leslie called.

  “I just mean I’d rather be alone. Too much alcohol is all.” Her voice sounded rough, and she supposed that made it more convincing. But as he sucked on her clit through her thin cotton panties, she decided she really didn’t care.

  Shifting, she spread her legs wider and held on to the edge of the tub for dear life as he tugged the crotch of her panties aside and worked magic with his tongue.

  “I was going to freshen my make-up,” Les called, “but I’ll just use what’s in my purse.”

  “Uh-huh,” Shel said as Nolan sucked on her clit while teasing her labia with a finger wet with her desire.

  “Are you coming later?” Les asked.

  “Oh, God, yes, absolutely,” Shelby cried out, as Nolan’s magical tongue took her loudly and fabulously over the edge.

  Nolan, she mouthed when she came back to earth, but he just pulled her down to the area rug, then yanked her panties around her knees as her sex pulsed in anticipation.

  “Condom” he whispered, and she spread her hands helplessly.

  “Five girls. Someone must have one,” he said. Then he was on his feet searching. A moment later he thrust a silver package into the air.

  “Hurry,” she said, not bothering to be quiet anymore. She thought she’d heard Les leave. And if she was wrong, well, she didn’t care.

  He opened the fly of his tux pants, then knelt between her legs as she reached for him, wanting to touch his cock before he sheathed it. “Don’t,” he said. “I’m too close. And you don’t want to stain that dress.”

  She burst out laughing, and he got on top of her, laughing, too. Then he was inside her and their sounds were laughter and pleasure and wild, glorious fun.

  And when he came, she hooked her legs around him and used her strength to pull him in deeper, closer to her core. Closer to her heart.

  When he was spent, he stretched out beside her, his finger tracing her collar bone. “You’re incredible,” he said. “And I bet we just had the most fun of anybody at this wedding.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Thinking about jumping in?” Nolan asked, coming to stand at the end of the dock beside Amanda.

  She turned her head and smiled at him. “I haven’t swum in Lake Austin since we were kids.” She sat down, hanging her bare feet over the edge. “And most of the time you threw me in, you jerk. I rarely had the chance to jump.”

  He dropped down beside her, his own flip-flops now abandoned on the wooden dock. “That’s what big brothers are for.”

  She looked at him sideways. “Is that what they’re for? I never could figure that out.”

  “Cute.”

  She nudged his shoulder. “What are Mom and Dad up to?”

  Technically, they were his Mom and her Dad, but their parents had married when they were both so young that neither he nor Amanda thought of themselves as stepsiblings. Except when the topic of his asshole father came up. Then Nolan felt about as far removed from the Franklin family as was humanly possible.

  “When I walked down,” he told her, “Dad was watching a documentary on bees, and Mom was cleaning up after lunch.”

  “Dammit,” Amanda said, “I told her I’d do that when I got back.”

  “Yeah, right. Like that would happen.”

  She grinned. “That was my trick as a kid. But as a responsible adult, I really did intend to clean up. Only seemed fair since she put out the Sunday spread. Exactly what about bees?”

  “No idea. But Mom doesn’t mind. Says it keeps him out of trouble.”

  A retired petroleum engineer, for the last five years, Huey Franklin had become inexplicably addicted to nature documentaries.

  “Speaking of trouble,” Amanda began with a wicked lit
tle grin, “I guess you got it all worked out?”

  “Color me confused.”

  “The girl,” she said. “Trying to get some girl. Not getting the girl. Much musical and comedic angst on the radio. And then no angst, so I’m assuming you and the girl worked it out. Oh, and the spot you did for The Fix was great. Jenna said they really appreciate it.” She paused, then laughed. “Don’t look at me like that. What? You thought I didn’t listen to your show?”

  “I didn’t think about it at all, actually.” He pulled an exaggerated frown. “And you can tell Jenna I’ve got more in mind. Maybe interview some of the calendar guys. Tyree, too, if he’s willing. And I thought about live streaming some of the contest if they’re cool with that.”

  “Love the idea.”

  “As for you listening to my show, I’m not sure if I’m flattered that you’re interested or mortified that my sister hears all my X-rated bullshit.”

  “Oh, please. Like you ever censor yourself around me. And I think it’s more PG-13. Maybe NC-17. But only when you manage to slip something past Connor.”

  He laughed. “You make a good point.”

  “I always do,” she countered. “And you’re changing the subject.”

  Amanda always was too clever by half. But considering all the help she gave him over the years, he’d never razzed her on her brainiac ways. “You’re right. The girl has been gotten.”

  “Nice. So who is she? And don’t just say she’s a girl. I got that part already.”

  “She’s definitely not just a girl.”

  “Oh, really?” She ran her toes through the water and flicked her foot up, sprinkling both of them with droplets. “I want a name.”

  “But you’re not getting one. We’re not public yet.” They’d talked about it briefly while they were on the floor of the bathroom in the Four Seasons. The fact that they both wanted more of each other. And the fact that there were complications.