Three Little Words (#dirtysexygeeks Book 4) Read online

  And it wasn't like she could ignore every muscled inch of his body since she was plastered against him.

  The photographer stepped back. Iris smiled and was hit with another flash. The moment the woman walked away, she returned to her hard expression and directed it at Porter.

  Of course, he smiled at her again. She snorted and swayed thoughtlessly to the music. “Why are you gawking at me?” Iris asked.

  “You clean up nice.”

  “My boobs do look good in this dress.” She lifted his chin when, like clockwork, he dipped his head down to get a look.

  “How long is this song?” he asked, his tone dry.

  She swallowed the laugh. “Four minutes and eight seconds. I helped picked it out. Now, this was before I thought about the fact I'd be partnering with you. I was sure you wouldn’t be the best man given how much of a dick you were to Victor.”

  His gaze shuttered at that, and she knew she’d hit a sore spot. Iris hadn’t witnessed Porter’s meltdown when he found out about his sister and Victor. Iris had been there when Ashley cried after retelling the incident.

  Iris knew all too well what it felt like to be torn down by a man who had known you since you were in diapers. A man who promised to love you unconditionally.

  Porter cleared his throat. “Ashley's forgiven me, but you're going to hold a pissed-off torch?”

  “Ashley’s too forgiving. That’s why you have best friends who will remember all and every slight. It’s my responsibility, if you think hard about it.”

  His jaw flexed as though he was swallowing down anger. “I walked my sister down the aisle, giving my blessing as best as I know how. I’m Victor’s best man.”

  She tried not to think about that. His eyes had gotten misty when he put Ashley’s hand in Victor’s, and then there had been a moment when the two friends shared a long look. No words were exchanged, but her heart had squeezed, just a bit. A lot had been said in that one look.

  It only meant Porter wasn’t one hundred percent jackass.

  “And that,” she said, “just circles us back to I am the bearer of longheld grudges.”

  A corner of his mouth quirked up, and all she could do was stare. A man shouldn't have the kind of lips that encouraged obscene thoughts.

  “All right,” he said. “Then getting you to like me is going to take some work.”

  “I know what you are. I don’t want to like you.”

  “What am I?”

  “I’m trying to be nice.”

  He narrowed his eyes then grinned. Without warning, he dipped her. She flailed at the abrupt move, but he held her steady as he straightened.

  “Oh, this means war,” she murmured.

  “Yup. You better hold on.” With his height advantage over her, it was too easy to bring her arm up. “Twirl, baby, twirl.”

  “If you don't give me my arm back...”

  He shook his head and walked around her like they were doing a tango. He brought her hand up to his lips. It was supposed to be a joke or to piss her off, but her skin tingled where his mouth had touched. The way he glanced up, his eyes dark pools of lust, pretty much said he'd felt that small punch to his gut, too.

  He scraped his thumb across the back of her hand before he dropped it.

  Porter moved behind her, resting his hands on her hips. “We can do the Dirty Dancing moves next.”

  “You want to run your hands down the sides of my breast without my permission? In HR we call that sexual harassment.”

  “You invited me to look at your breasts, then sucker punched me in the chin when I tried.”

  “Sucker punch is a strong word.” But Iris couldn't deny she'd invited the stare with every intent to block him from indulging.

  “I’m just curious as to why you wanted me to look in the first place.”

  Damn. He had her there. She stepped back. “Two more long minutes with me. Isn't this fun?”

  He tugged her back into his embrace. “Could be.” He trailed his hands down until they rested at her waist. “A lot of fun.”

  His timbre had dropped an octave, and she had no doubt they'd stopped playing somehow. He dipped his head again, his mouth brushing her earlobe. “You're beautiful. I should have just said that when I first saw you.”

  She wondered if he meant today or five years ago when they saw each other across a parking lot. He’d been waiting for Ashley to get off work, leaning against his sister’s car. He’d worn a short-sleeve shirt, jeans and sunglasses. Even from that distance she could see his tattooed skin, his thick neck and his wide shoulders.

  Porter had been a thing of beauty. She’d stayed away then and from that point on because to some extent she could understand his dogged worldview—friends and family coupling didn’t mix. Where they differed is that she thought sometimes they mixed well.

  Also, the biggest difference, he’d been a shit about friends and family coupling.

  Still...Her breath hitched. He’d thought she was beautiful. “Is this how you get forgiveness?”

  “This is how I flirt.”

  Well, shit. Her stomach turned weightless, but in a good way. A very good one. “You looked at my boobs. Has that effect on men.”

  “Nope. Not why I'm flirting.”

  “Then why?” Not that she cared.

  Kind of.

  Dammit.

  “Your laugh. The fact you wanted to maim me and would have if I gave you enough leverage.” He lowered his voice. “These hips.”

  Never had that line ever worked on her until he'd said it, in a voice that was made for dirty talk. He could have told her she had a fat neck and she'd still probably be as turned on. And, yeah, her panties were trying to unroll themselves.

  Not because he was—okay, he was fine as fuck, even though his brows naturally arched into a frown. His brown eyes seemed just one laugh away from lighting up. She'd been hellbent on irritating him and he'd turned the tables on her.

  Did she forget to mention he smelled of spice and leather? It was a testosterone-laden scent that had probably felled more than a few women in his past. Simply put, he smelled like something one should ride, at least once. The latter is why she wavered for only a moment. From what she knew of him, Porter wasn't a good guy. Probably wasn't a bad boy either. He used his words to hurt the people he loved.

  He was still waters. One likely either sank or swam with him. Iris was too practical to flirt with drowning.

  She pushed away from him, her face heated. “Stop flirting with me.”

  “Iris...”

  Her shoulders went up and she leaned into him. Porter once again brushed his lips along her earlobe. “I'd believe you if you didn't keep looking at my mouth.”

  Had she? Probably. Thoughtlessly. His lips were perfect. Not too big. Not too small. She could easily imagine him closing his mouth on her clit with one long suck. Or feathering along her neck. Or brushing her torso.

  She drew her hands down his front, and her hand bumped against something hard...and square. Tilting her head, she met his gaze. “Don’t think I’m flirting back, but what the hell is in your pocket?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I’m just happy to see you?”

  Iris rolled her eyes. “I kind of asked for that lame-ass line.”

  “It’s a Rubik’s cube.”

  She gaped at him. “What level of nerd are you to bring a Rubik’s to a wedding?”

  “On a scale of one to ten?”

  She hated how much she liked his form of flirtation. Iris was saved by the music ending. She spun on her heels, headed straight for the bar. She needed a cup of ice and a bigger cup of whiskey. There was no way she'd let Porter use that voice on her again. That way lay trouble.

  Spock + Uhura

  Porter drained his drink, slamming it done hard enough the sound jolted Oliver awake. He hid his smile as his friend blinked at him.

  “What?” Oliver asked. “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  Oliver dragged a hand throug
h his blond hair, the ends were well past his shoulders now. He looked like a rock star with a tatted band around both of his wrists like cuffs. Those were new, and worrying.

  Porter opened his mouth to ask, but Oliver shook his head like he could read the intent. Probably.

  “It’s a wedding,” Oliver said.

  “Oh, you noticed through your sleep?”

  Oliver smiled. “I handed in my final draft about six this morning. It was that or miss this.”

  Porter glanced down the table that held the wedding party. Victor sat by with a frown as Ashley talked animatedly with some far flung cousin of theirs. His mother had gone through Facebook, her Rolodex, and the grapevine to invite everyone. She was footing the bill, so cost hadn’t been an issue.

  Without putting too much thought in it, he scanned the room. Near the front of the line at the wet bar stood Iris.

  “Do you think that is a smart idea?” Oliver asked.

  Not that Porter had put out a signal he’d had his eye on Iris, but how the fuck did Oliver notice being half asleep for most of the reception?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Your sister’s best friend, the one you were slow grinding on the dance floor.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “You weren’t, but your eye twitched. That means you’re lying.”

  Oliver had two vices—gambling and pain. He would notice Porter’s tell.

  “The rule doesn’t apply anymore and have you seen her in that dress?”

  “Just a gentle reminder that was your rule. Your rule because shit always gets complicated.”

  And Porter needed his family to stay intact. He needed stability. He tore his gaze from Iris to look down at Victor and Ashley. “She flirted back.”

  “And that’s the only reason your blood is running hot for her?”

  “Shut up, Oliver.”

  “I figured while I was awake for five minutes, I should play Jiminy Cricket.”

  “Go back to sleep then.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll drop it.”

  Porter met Oliver’s gaze. Had it, for a thousandth of a second, crossed his mind that fucking Iris would ruffle Ashley’s feathers? Yup. Knowing his sister though, she’d laugh and make jokes. On a bad day, she’d call him a hypocrite.

  “My rules don’t matter now. I find Iris interesting.”

  “Interesting? Is that what the kids are calling it these days.”

  “Shut up, Oliver.”

  His friend only laughed. “Be careful. She seems...not your type.”

  “Having a great smile is my type.”

  “You were looking at her smile all right.”

  Porter picked a new subject to distract his family. “Where’s Wade and Grady? Did they finally kill each other?”

  Oliver gestured to the dance floor. “They took their women for a spin.”

  Porter searched the mob of dancers. Wade and Sophie were right in the thick of the crowd. That had to be Sophie’s doing. The song was slow and easy to sway to—that had to be Wade’s choice. Not even being in love could make him comfortable dancing to an upbeat song in public. In a cummerbund.

  Next Porter searched the outer edge and found Grady with his wife, Eva. His friend’s hands rested on her waist as he danced behind her. There was no other way to dance with her. Her stomach resembled a basketball. In about two months they’d have a baby girl to add to their family, and because of it he knew way too much about menstrual cycles, LMPs, swollen feet and sore breasts.

  Porter rose from the chair. “The day Wade dances in public and does PDA, is the day I say fuck it, and find a pretty woman to shamelessly flirt with. You should do the same.”

  Oliver rested his left hand over his right wrist. “Pass.”

  “No redheads on the floor. I understand.”

  “You’re an ass, Porter. Has anyone told you that lately?”

  “Give it about five minutes and I’m sure Iris will.”

  “Then why are you sniffing after her? I didn’t take you for a masochist.”

  Porter muttered, “You would know.”

  “When are they going to cut the cake?” Oliver asked, ignoring the dig.

  “No idea.” He searched out for Iris again. She was at the head of the line waiting for the bartender to give her some attention.

  “Later.” He was out of his chair before Oliver could reply. He got waylaid a time or two, but he used his height and smile to get to the front of the line.

  He leaned on the makeshift bar beside Iris. She huffed. “What do you want?”

  “No, hi? I thought we brokered a truce earlier.”

  “You tried to use your charm to get into my pants. I wouldn’t call that a truce.”

  “Then let me buy you a drink to apologize.”

  She laughed and finally faced him. “Porter, it’s a free wet bar.”

  “The sentiment is the same.”

  “No. It’s not. Buying me a drink is spending money on me even when you’re not sure it’s going to pay off.”

  Her wording gave him hope. “So what can I do?”

  “Is leaving me alone an option?”

  “Do you really want me to?”

  Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she checked him out. “I’m conflicted about that, which is surprising.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You’ve shown yourself to be pigheaded.”

  He thought back to all the words he spilled out to his sister when he’d found out about her and Victor. They’d been ugly words. Some he meant. Some he’d swallowed over the years. None of them fair to her or his friend. He couldn’t even recall what he’d been thinking as they had poured out of him like acid. He’d been hurt to find out his sister didn’t trust him enough to come clean. He’d been blind with fear as what ifs buried any logical thought.

  Ashley was impulsive, a little selfish and too much like their father. Victor, a former soldier, haunted by his time in the service, had trouble adjusting to civilian life. For a while, that meant violence when he felt threatened. His sister and his friend had been a recipe for disaster. A ticking bomb that would have left a family-sized crater.

  “I don’t excuse my reaction,” he said. “There is none. But I dare anyone to look me in the face and tell me they’ve never once taken sides when mutual friends break up.” He held up his hand and moved in closer to her. “Right this second you’re pissed at me, holding onto a grudge because I hurt your friend. Doesn’t matter she’s my sister, and that gives me certain kinds of rights.”

  She huffed. “What kind of rights?”

  “I can go to her house, dig into her fridge and eat all her food. I can end any and all public arguments by bringing up that one thing she’d kill me for repeating.”

  The way Iris laughed made him think she had siblings. “I’ll give you that.”

  “So let’s start over. I’m not Ashley’s brother. You’re not Ashley’s friend.” He smiled. “Porter.”

  She glanced down the bar and waved at the bartender to get the man’s attention. He gave her a slight nod of acknowledgment. Given the crowd, that still meant a five minute wait.

  Iris turned her body to face him. “Iris.”

  He unleashed his smile on her. “Very nice to meet you.”

  “It’s a little disgusting how good you are at this.”

  “At what?”

  “Charming my panties off.”

  Porter couldn’t lie and say that wasn’t his intent. “Since I’m not buying you a drink...”

  Iris glanced over his shoulder. “Get me some cake, and we’ll go from there.”

  “Cake? That’s it?”

  “I helped her choose it. I may have talked her into getting caramel syrup as a side just for me.”

  He thought about all the ways he’d lick that off her. His smile deepened. “Say no more.”

  Oliver + Felicity

  The hotel door rattled as he pushed Iris against it. She moaned into his mo
uth, and he wanted to pin her against the wood and fuck her right there.

  “How much shit do I have to peel off under this dress?” he murmured against her mouth.

  Iris laughed and the sound was full of heart that was infectious. “Spanx, strapless bra—Fort Knox is under this dress.” She broke the embrace to turn around.

  He brought his mouth to her neck, leaving soft kisses and bites as she opened the door. She must have had dabbed perfume in the crook of her neck. The scent of vanilla and almonds made his heart light, his cock hard and his stomach tight with need.

  The wedding had become a Thing, and for his own sanity he'd focused on his part. Walk his sister down the aisle without sobbing like a baby, stand beside his friend at the altar, deliver a speech, and finally, force himself to dance with the maid-of-honor while making polite conversation.

  The last had turned from a duty, to flirting, to whispering in her ear as he touched her intimately. She had one hell of a smile. Every time she’d thrown it in his direction, the sour pit in his gut stopped gnawing at his insides.

  She spooned her ass into his crotch. Nothing else mattered. The door beeped three times and they lurched forward as she pushed the door open.

  He palmed her ass with one hand. There was no soft swell and he’d looked at her ass long enough to know there should be one. “What is a Spanx?”

  “Something entirely unsexy. Unzip me, and I'll get undressed in the bathroom.”

  “I won't care.”

  “I will.”

  Porter wrapped an arm around her torso to keep her close as he unzipped her dress. Slowly. The side zipper gave way but he continued to nibble up her neck to her ear. “Don't make me wait too long.”

  “Please be buck-ass naked when I come out of the bathroom.”

  He liked her. “Promise.”

  She wobbled to the bathroom, holding up the dress with both arms. Porter shook his head. His phone buzzed.