Calendar Girl: November(4)

By: Audrey Carlan



Before she could answer, Anton butted in, which was not at all unusual for him. He loved being the life of the party. Suited his profession of top performing and selling rapper, too. “H is asombroso…how you say? Amazing! The shows she’s pulling off, the clothing deals. Fantástico! Best decision I ever made, promoting her. Glad I thought of it.”

“You!” Heather and I yelled at the same time and then fell into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, so maybe I didn’t come up with it. But I agreed with it.”

I rolled my eyes. Heather smirked and crossed her arms.

“Whatever, Anton. What are you feeding us?” I asked, coming around the counter and bumping into his hip.

He didn’t even flinch from stirring the sauce he was watching like a hawk. “Ah, a staple for me and my familia. It is arroz con pollo.”

“I recognize the word chicken, but what is the rest?”

He chuckled. “Pretty much rice and chicken.”

“Pulling out all the stops, I see,” I said, deadpan.

Anton pushed my hair off my shoulder and ran his thumb down my cheek. “For you, lucita, the world.” His tone sounded serious, but the twinkle in his eye belied the mischief.

I snorted. “With chicken and rice?”

His eyebrows narrowed. “Hey, don’t joke. Everyone loves chicken and rice, si?”

“Si, Anton. Wes, you want something to drink?” I turned around and faced Weston. His eyes were plunging daggers straight into the back of Anton’s head, and I hadn’t a clue why. “Wes?” I asked again until his green eyes focused on me. “A drink?”

Heather came over and yanked open the fridge. “I’ve got some Cristal chilling, which I think we should pop now, in lieu of the martinis I was going to make. We certainly have a reason to celebrate since you’re getting married! Oh my God! Are you just dying?” She asked as she went over to a cabinet and pulled out four champagne flutes.

I inhaled full and deep and let all the tension slip out of my shoulders as I held my hand up and stared at my ring. “Dying, no. Happier than I’d thought I’d be at this moment in my life? Damn straight!” I looked at Wes, and his entire body seemed to soften, the edge he’d had a minute ago gone with my words. His shoulders no longer looked as though they were as high as his ears, and he held his head in the palm of his hand, elbow resting on the kitchen bar in a lazier, more casual resting position.

“What woman wouldn’t be beside herself?” I leaned over the other side of the bar and grabbed his hand. He held mine, lifted it, and kissed the palm. Tingles started low in my back, and I mentally followed them as they tickled along my spine. Those tingles turned into ribbons of heat when he ran his thumb down the center of my palm. I swear it was like a hot button direct to my clit. The moment he scraped his nail along the inside of my hand I had to stifle a moan. Now was not the time or the place to be getting riled up. We had the rest of the night to get through before we could bask in the glory of our love once more. But we would. Oh, yes, we would.

I decided right then and there that I was going to make my man so hard before the night was up that he’d lose his mind in lust before he even took me back to the hotel.

Playing his game, I gripped his hand and pulled on his arm. Then I ran my finger from the inside of his elbow to his wrist where I traced a few figure eights. His eyes lit up, and he grinned, all white even teeth and a dazzling pair of lips I’d never tire of kissing. For a moment, I worried my secret plan to seduce him and make him crazy with lust might backfire on me. He was quick on the uptake, my guy. Regardless, it was a worthy tradeoff. I came around the kitchen counter and stood next to him. He claimed me instantly.

Heather poured the ridiculously expensive champagne. “Come on, Anton. Put the burner on low and get over here,” she urged.

Anton turned a few knobs, spun on his toes as if he were in a Michael Jackson video, tipped his body back, extended his foot out, and shimmied over to her.

“Show-off,” I coughed.

That time, Wes burst out laughing. Finally my guy was loosening the hell up, but I think it had a lot to do with the fact that I was one, wearing his ring; two, clamped to his side; and three, Anton was actually a dork. A sexy as fuck dork, but a dork nonetheless. The first I’d never admit to even if under extreme duress because Wes would lose it. Besides, if Anton’s fans knew how cheesy he was, they’d still love him because his music was on point and he was hot as Hades, but the silly factor might actually score him a few good girls. One could only hope.

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