Hot Pickle: A Best Friend's Sister Romantic Comedy Page 11

  Her fingers slide into my hair, and I feel every part of her, breasts crushing against my ribs, even the ends of the brushes filling in her belt. My hands slide down her back, over the belt, and cup her luscious round ass.

  She shifts closer, her mouth seeking mine with more fervor. Our tongues mingle, and I breathe in the scent of her, that combination of light floral and tanning solution that is uniquely her.

  She breaks away for a moment, gasping. “I thought about you all day.”

  I press my forehead to hers. “Same.”

  “It was so hard to tan my brother. I wanted to tell him to get the hell out of my life and leave me alone.”

  “Same for me at breakfast. It took everything I had not to say, ‘By the way, you can stop trying to control your sister.’”

  She runs her thumb along my chin and jaw. “We’ll have to tell him eventually though, right?”

  “I think we can worry about that later.”

  I dive in again, desperate to have her mouth on mine. The kiss is frenzied, passionate, deep. Secretive. Dark. Thrilling.

  I need more of her, so I move my hands beneath her thighs and lift so she straddles my hips.

  The close contact has its usual effect, and I grind my erection against her body.

  “It feels as good as it looks,” she whispers.

  “Don’t tempt me,” I say.

  “That’s exactly what I want to do.”

  “Do you, now?” I press into her even harder.

  She sucks in a breath. “We’re in dangerous territory.”

  “Are we?”

  “I’m desperate to do a whole lot more with you, and here we are in a room full of chairs.”

  I clutch at her, moving our bodies together in a hard, grinding rhythm. Her eyes are half-closed, those heavenly lashes flirting with her cheeks.

  Her phone buzzes once, twice, and then a third time.

  “All my alarms,” she says. “I have to get back to the classic. I have so many clients who need me today.”

  “But you’ll be here tonight?” I ask.

  “Yes. I’ll be the one wriggling uncomfortably in my seat.”

  “Make sure you don’t sit where I can see you,” I warn her. “Or the evening show may be a lot more X-rated than intended.”

  She laughs as she kisses my cheek, then runs her tongue along my jaw to my ear.

  I let out a groan. “Do that again, and these chairs will get a show.”

  She laughs. “A preview of coming attractions.”

  I set her legs to the floor. “I think I better stay here with my nonjudgmental company until things are more under control.”

  She gives my arm a quick squeeze and hurries out the door. Only when the door is closed behind her do I press my hands against the wall, willing myself to get control again.

  Whatever’s going on between us, it’s starting to flare hot and fast.

  18

  Camryn

  I should be exhausted as I empty the remaining brushes from my belt and pack up the tanning supplies in the trunk of my car. It’s been a long day, starting with Max before dawn and splitting my hours between two competitions.

  But I’m headed to the evening show to see Max compete, and my body jitters like I just drank an entire pot of coffee.

  I race over to the second arena and enter the auditorium right as the lightweights leave the stage. Good. I can settle in and take a breather before Max’s class arrives.

  The competitors may be fiercer at this level of competition, but the fans are the same. They wave giant signs and screech when their favorites come out.

  The physique class walks on stage, and I watch carefully, wondering what keeps my brother from moving up.

  Franklin has good symmetry, and when I tanned him this morning, he had good tone and vein reveal. But I think it’s something more than pure musculature. Franklin doesn’t have that presence on stage. He’s forgettable.

  Not that I would tell him. He’s got enough cause to be annoyed with me without my critique. Surely Amy has tried to help him. She must be a good posing coach, because the work she’s done with Max has been phenomenal.

  My phone buzzes against my hip. I don’t want to be rude and look at it in the middle of the competition, so I wait until the competitors have left the stage to take a peek.

  It’s Franklin, of all people, wondering where I am. I didn’t tell him I wasn’t staying for the evening show at the open where he was competing today.

  I type out a quick tied up with clients and shove the phone in my pocket again.

  The first heavyweight strides out. He’s outrageously developed, shoulders so broad he probably doesn’t fit through doors, and his lat spread looks like wings unfurling.

  A lot of cheers go up for him, so he’s probably used to winning. He has great presence. He’s someone to beat.

  The next three don’t impress me quite as much. One is well-developed, the other two less so, more Max’s size. But they don’t have much going for them other than their tanned, oiled muscles.

  Max comes out to a smattering of applause, and I can’t help but shriek his name and scream, to make sure the judges know he is supported here. I wonder if he hasn’t told anyone that he does this, or if his friends aren’t supportive. I’ll have to ask.

  I realize we don’t know a lot about each other outside of our jobs. I want to change that.

  Max strikes his first pose with confidence and grace. His megawatt smile reaches out to the audience, and soon quite a few are clapping along to the music as he moves through his routine.

  By the time he has finished, I don’t need to shriek for him, he’s gathered tons of new fans during his brief time on stage.

  That’s good. Really good. The energy he gives off will move him up, help him close the gap between him and the competitors with bigger physiques.

  I settle back in my chair, preferring to only have eyes for Max. But I promised him I would help him figure out what might be different between him and the others at this level.

  So I drag my gaze from him and watch the other men do their routines.

  The judges request only a short comparison round, suggesting they have already decided the winner. When all twelve men hit the Most Muscular pose, the roar of the crowd makes my ears ring.

  That’s fun. I hope Max is enjoying himself up there.

  Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s going to win. As much as I love his stage presence above the others, the first one who came out is equally as charismatic, and at least a third larger. He’s got the gold medal, hands down.

  The men shift to the back of the stage as the announcer fills in time while scores are tallied.

  The crowd is on fire, and they begin clapping and stomping in unison, encouraging the bodybuilders on stage to resume posing.

  Max is one of the first to comply, and the others have to quickly jump forward to join in.

  This move could help him if the judges are still considering placements. The old-school scores are all about muscle development, but increasingly, the judges consider the marketability of a bodybuilder and how they help bring in spectators.

  Finally, a runner takes the card up to the announcer, and the crowd quiets down.

  “In third place, for the bronze medal…” The announcer pauses while the requisite hot girl in heels can approach with the medal. “Goes to number seven, Max Pickle.”

  I jump from my seat. Holy cow, he’s placed. At this level, you don’t have to win the gold to move up. He will be eligible for next week’s national qualifier. Dang. My ears ring with my own shrieking for his win as he strikes his pose.

  After a moment, I realize I’m the only one left screaming for Max, and I drop into my chair.

  A woman two seats down reaches out to bump my arm. “Girl, I’d be hollering too if he was my man.” The woman on the other side of her nods.

  True.

  But he’s not mine. Not yet.

  Max steps back. The silver medal is awarded t
o one of the well-developed men with a decent stage act.

  And as expected, the crowd favorite wins the gold medal.

  The three medalists step forward for one more pose, and I smile when Max does Most Muscular. He’s already figured out he needs to work the crowd based on what they love.

  He walks off the stage, leaving the winner to be joined by the gold medalists of the other categories for their final posedown and grand champion.

  I don’t want to stay for this. I want to get to Max. Since he didn’t win, he won’t have the photo shoot. He’s free for the night.

  I bump my way out of the row before the winners get on stage and burst through the back doors.

  My rainbow Converse slap along the shining floors down the length of the rotunda to the door leading backstage. I flash my vendor pass at the security guard and rush to the back room where the competitors line up.

  Max’s things are still in their spot by the wall. I stop in the middle of the room, where a few competitors are hanging out. Where is he?

  I turn and see him wander through the door, shaking the hands of the other heavyweights. I careen into him and wrap my arms around his neck.

  “You placed! You placed!”

  He grasps my waist and spins me in a circle. “I did! Who’d have thought it!”

  His body is slick with oil, but I don’t care. I’m so excited for him, and I don’t want to let him go.

  We walk arm in arm back to his bag.

  “I think we should celebrate!” I say.

  “Me too. As soon as I can get all this gunk off me.”

  Max Pickle naked in the shower. That’s a vision.

  He squeezes my hand. “I think something decadent might be in order since I can technically eat carbs on competition day. Some Italian? A steakhouse?”

  “Anything you want.”

  He pulls on his jacket. “I should go easy on the carbs. I don’t even know what’s next.”

  “Well, you qualified for the next level, which happens in one week. That one is a national qualifier.”

  He shrugs. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re working toward being a professional bodybuilder. Sponsors. Traveling. The whole thing!”

  He pulls on his pants, his eyes down. “It’s a lot to take in. I have a deli to run.”

  “You know what. Don’t worry about the future. Let’s celebrate today,” I say.

  “Now that I can do.” He shoulders his bag, and we walk hand-in-hand out to the parking lot.

  “You have your car here?” Max asks.

  “Yeah. Did you want to meet at a restaurant or something?”

  My phone buzzes, but I ignore it. Max is more important.

  He punches his remote to unlock a sleek blue sports car. “We could meet at my place. It’s a bit of a haul from here, but not too far from you.”

  Before I can answer, Max’s phone buzzes.

  Then mine again. Then his.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Max digs his phone out of his pocket.

  I glance down at mine.

  When we look up at each other, we both say the same word simultaneously.

  “Franklin.”

  “What’s he saying to you?” Max asks.

  I sigh. “He wonders why I wasn’t there for his evening show. Apparently, he placed.”

  “That’s what he told me!” Max says. “It’s what he’s always wanted.”

  “He might qualify for the same show you’re going to next week. That open he was at today has higher standing than the one you did two weeks ago, and he already has a history.”

  “Even better,” Max says. “He and I can go together. Today was a bummer without my best bud. We did this together.”

  Then his eyes meet mine. “Oh. Right.”

  “Exactly,” I say.

  “He’s asking me to celebrate with him tonight,” Max says. “I can put him off.”

  I reach out and squeeze his arm. “He didn’t ask me to celebrate,” I say. “I think you should go with him. This is big for him. He’s been waiting three years for it.”

  Max steps closer to me. “But it feels like I’ve been waiting three years to be alone with you.”

  A thrill zips through me as he pulls my body close to his. The night is cool, the parking lot quiet since the final event is still going on inside the arena.

  “Are you going to compete next week, though?” I ask.

  “Probably,” he says. “It’ll be fun to level up with Franklin.”

  I shift the collar of his jacket. “I’m going to see you plenty this week. In fact, I should see you tomorrow, to prep for the new tan.”

  His grin is infectious, and his white teeth flash from the streetlamp. “Are you saying you’re going to have those lovely talented hands all over me?”

  “That, I can guarantee.”

  He leans in to kiss me, and my heart soars. There’s no rush here. We’re at the best part right now, everything full of promise. His career will go where he wants, or he’ll let it go.

  But we’re already on a journey that isn’t going to end regardless of where his bodybuilding future falls.

  And I love having something to look forward to.

  The next day, I have many things to think about as I wait for Max to arrive for his tanning session.

  His searing kisses from the weekend have kept me up at night. How his hands roved my body. His blatant desire.

  But I’m not sure what I’m ready for.

  I’ve been worried about our tanning sessions. He’s always naked. He hasn’t been able to hide his attraction to me, even as I played coy with him. It’s like Sofia said, the balance of power is all off.

  Except I have an idea on how to make things more equitable between us. Show him, without a doubt, where we’re headed.

  My heart hammers so hard when he knocks on my door that I’m not sure which is louder.

  When I open it, Max takes a moment to look at me. “Has it only been a day since I’ve seen you?”

  “Just one.” I close the door. “How was the celebration with my brother?”

  “Surprisingly fun. We went bowling and ate giant cheeseburgers, buns and all.”

  “My brother can be fun when he wants to be.”

  Max takes my hand as we head into the room. “He’s been my friend for eight years. I admit it feels weird to keep something so big from him.”

  “Do you think you’ll tell him soon?”

  “I think that’s a decision we have to make together.” He reaches out and trails his finger from my shoulder to the inside of my elbow. My body thrums with the low, steady hum of anticipation.

  “So, is this where I get naked?” he asks.

  “You’re still here in a professional capacity.”

  “I’m here to do your bidding.”

  My heart hammers. So, do I do this risky thing or not?

  My voice wavers a bit as I say, “Then get behind the screen and take your damn clothes off.”

  I watch him retreat to the corner of the room.

  When he’s out of sight, I decide, yes. I’m going to do it.

  Skin for skin. Well, mostly.

  And I slowly drop away my own clothes.

  19

  Max

  I’ve shoved my clothes into my bag and am digging around for the modesty pouch when Camryn calls from the other side of the screen.

  “Remember, we had that problem with the modesty pouch pulling the color off on you. If you’re okay with that, we can skip it today. I’ll hold it aside as I work, letting it dry before I do each side.”

  My cock jumps at her words. I’ve been able to handle myself during the tans lately, but this time, if she touches me, there’s no chance.

  Plus, there’s the matter of that incredibly hot make-out session at the arena. Even with the madness of the competitions and my future as a bodybuilder zooming at me at warp speed, I think about it constantly. Her, constantly.

  I remember the feel of her unde
r my hands, those glorious breasts and round ass. And now I’m too late. Full-mast.

  I try to shift my focus.

  But the more I try to think of something else, I swear, the harder my cock gets.

  It’s time to live it. It’s not like Camryn doesn’t know how hot I am for her.

  I’m going to walk out there with the biggest erection of my life. Even the towel will be standing at attention.

  But I do snatch one up from the table beside the screen.

  I wrap it around my waist and step out.

  Then I see her.

  And I’m so shocked I drop the towel to the floor.

  She’s practically naked. The whole of her skin glows pale and luminous in the light where she works by the stool.

  Fuuuuck.

  My blood rushes to my cock.

  The top of her round breasts gleam. Her nipples are small and pink. As I gawk at them, they tighten into buds.

  There an indention on either side of her stomach muscles, and her belly button is an innie, not an outie.

  I can already picture my tongue dipping inside it.

  She wears the tiniest, barest swimsuit bottom, dark blue with black flowers. Beneath it, her legs are slender, her knees adorable. Her toenails are painted pink.

  I want to worship her.

  “Are you going to stare all day or are we going to get you tan?”

  I can barely speak. “Do you…?”

  “Do this for all my clients? Of course not. But we’re starting something here, and it has felt very unequal. You’ve been bared to me the whole time. So here. I’m as naked as you.” She holds out her arms, and I swear to God I’m nearly brought to my knees.

  “You’re a fucking goddess,” I manage to say.

  She gives me a wry smile. “So, do you think we can do this?”

  I’ve no idea what she’s talking about. “Do…what?” My mind races with possibilities. Fuck like rabbits? Lick every inch of each other? Married, children, retirement in the South of France? I can see our whole future laid out.

  She gestures to the stool. “The tan. I thought maybe I would work on you a little, then you would do me. I’ll moisturize you, then you will put your hands on my body. Equal footing.”