Man Crush Monday Read online

  Saturday seems so far away. I am addicted.

  That night, I’m more than ready for girls’ night. I already showered the day’s crappiness from my skin and changed into my loungewear and have taken off my bra. Now, all I need is my bestie to show her face, so I can start on the huge blender of frozen margaritas I just finished making. My mouth waters as I set the jug and our two glasses—salted edges and all—down on the coffee table, ready. I pick up the bowl of crisps and start munching, frowning when my doorbell rings. Heather usually just lets herself in.

  I push myself up from the sofa and head over, yanking it open, expecting my best friend. But it’s not Heather standing on the other side; it’s a guy barely out of his teens, chewing gum with his mouth open and wearing a black vest with Hugh’s Hampers stitched on it.

  “Delivery,” he announces, barely looking at me as he thrusts a brown box towards me.

  I frown and take the box. It’s slightly heavy, and I hear something shift noisily inside. “I haven’t ordered anything,” I mutter. “Are you sure it’s for me?” My eyes search out the address label as he looks at the little plastic gadget in his hand.

  “Amy Clarke?” he asks, looking at the number 5A on my door.

  I nod.

  “It’s for you.” He shrugs and holds out the contraption for me to sign for it.

  I use my finger to scribble something that doesn’t resemble my signature in the slightest.

  The guy barely waits for me to withdraw my hand before he turns and starts for the stairs. I frown down at the package as I head back inside, pushing the door closed with my bum. The label emblazoned on the top of the package also says Hugh’s Hampers.

  I frown. I’ve never heard of it, so it’s definitely a mistake.

  Curiously, I head back into the kitchenette, grabbing a knife and carefully sliding it along the tape.

  As I lift the lid, I see a card on the top—white with black printed type.

  Dear Miss Cheese Is Life,

  I thought you’d enjoy this more than chocolate or some other lame romantic gesture. A little something for you and the BFF to enjoy during Tequila Thursday.

  Jared x

  My mouth pops open in shock. He bought me a present? And his note mentions Tequila Thursday. I only told him about it this morning, so he had to have ordered this hamper today. Same-day delivery probably cost him a fortune.

  I reach out and remove the layer of tissue paper, eager to see what it is. In the box are several types of cheeses, two packs of crackers, some tiny jars of chutney and preserves, all nestled in paper shredding. I take each item out, inspecting it with a massive grin on my face. Underneath all the produce are a wooden cheeseboard and a cheese knife.

  “Holy shit.”

  A moronic grin slips onto my face as I carry it all over to the coffee table and lay it out. I set the typed note next to it, so I can show Heather. This is the most thoughtful thing any guy has ever bought for me. I would have been ecstatic with chocolates or “some other lame romantic gesture,” but this is perfection. He is perfection.

  As I’m gushing over the present and reading the card for the third time, Heather lets herself in my flat. “I’ve arrived! Make mine a large one. I need to pee,” she calls to me as she drops her coat and bag and heads straight for the bathroom.

  I grin and pour two drinks.

  “Wow, you’ve gone all out,” Heather says a couple of minutes later as she motions to the cheeseboard and plops down onto the sofa next to me. “How come?”

  I laugh and nod. It is decidedly more extravagant than my usual spread of stale peanuts and whatever they had in the reduced section of my local supermarket on the way home from work. She leans forward and picks up the knife, slicing off a chunk of Stilton and adding it to a cracker, hungrily stuffing it in her mouth.

  “Jared sent me it.”

  She raises one eyebrow, chewing quickly. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” I pass her the card, watching as she reads it. “I said, ‘Cheese is life,’ on our first date when we went for dinner,” I explain, nibbling on my bottom lip as a warm feeling spreads across my tummy.

  “Wow.” Her eyebrows rise into her hairline. “That’s seriously thoughtful. Not only did he actually listen to you, but he also then sent you a corresponding gift? I have no choice but to stan.” She sighs deeply. “I wish Tim still did stuff like that. His idea of a thoughtful gesture nowadays is brushing his teeth before he comes to bed if he’s been eating cheese and onion crisps.”

  I laugh at her exasperated expression. “Poor Tim. Don’t hate on my boy!”

  I always defend Tim. He and Heather met not long after we moved to Cambridge together. He was studying nursing and now helps sick kids for a living. What could be better than that? They’ve been together for years now. He is one of my best friends and a genuinely lovely bloke. I adore him like a brother.

  She rolls her eyes and shoves in another huge bite of cheese before reaching into her bag, pulling out two pots of face mask. “I snagged these from work.”

  Heather is a beauty therapist. It works out fantastic for me. I get free beauty treatments on tap and get to sample new products that they send to her salon.

  “Gold leaf or tee tree?” she asks.

  I point to the gold one and grin.

  We spend the next ten minutes chatting about our days and catching up while we smooth face mask on each other, eat cheese, and start on our second glasses of margarita.

  “This is so good,” I moan, cutting off more Brie, greedily licking my fingers.

  “So, how was the date last night? Pretty good I’m assuming if he same-day delivered you a damn cheese hamper.” She wiggles her eyebrows as much as her green muddy face mask will allow.

  “Amazing,” I reply honestly. “He was tired and hungry when he arrived, so I suggested staying here and watching a movie with a pizza instead of going to the cinema.”

  “Oh, really?” She turns in her seat, tucking her feet under her butt. Her eyes twinkle with excitement. “So, tell all. Did you let him past first base?”

  I grin and run my fingernail around the edge of my glass, collecting the salt from the rim and sucking it from my finger. “He hit a home run.”

  Heather chokes on her drink as she takes a sip. “What!”

  I nod proudly. “And he did a victory lap.”

  “What the hell? I’ve been here for almost half an hour, and I’m only learning this now? Details. I need details, woman!”

  So, I tell her every single detail because I’ve learned from previous experience that Heather will not stop probing until she has every juicy fact.

  By the time I’ve finished running through my sexcapades, she’s staring at me with wide eyes. “Damn, I don’t even smoke, and I feel like I need a cigarette after that,” she says. We both burst out laughing, and she picks up her glass. “To your crush not being a total letdown in bed.”

  I chink my glass against hers and nod. “To Jared being a total stud.”

  She looks back at the cheeseboard and smiles knowingly. “Now, I know why he sent you a cheeseboard. BJ on the first night? Bet he thinks his ship has come home.”

  Heather leans over and picks up the blender, tipping the dregs into my glass. Both of us look at the empty jug. My eyes widen.

  “Not it!” we both shout at the same time, but I’m a split second faster.

  I shoot her a smug smile and settle back onto the sofa as she groans in defeat and pushes herself up, heading to my kitchenette to make us a second batch.

  eight

  An annoying, angry tune drags me from my slumber so quickly that it makes me gasp. I groan and grope around on my bedside cabinet, slapping blindly for my phone. My eyes blink at the alarm clock—2:39 a.m.—but my foggy, sleep-filled brain can’t make sense of it. I get the phone to my ear and croak a hello even though I’m pretty sure I still have no idea what planet I’m on.

  “Amy, I’m so sorry I woke you.”

  “Who is this?” I
rasp, my voice full of sleep.

  “It’s Jared.”

  “Jared?” For about three seconds, the name means absolutely nothing to me, and then thoughts of him flood my brain all at once. “Is everything okay?”

  He clears his throat. “Yeah. It’s just … in the interest of full disclosure, I wanted to tell you that I’m at a strip club.”

  I reach up and rub my stinging eyes. “What?”

  “Look, I’ve seen too many movies where the guy does shady shit and doesn’t tell the girl. Then, she finds out, and it all goes pear-shaped. So, I just wanted to tell you now, so it doesn’t come back and bite me in the arse. I’m at a strip club right now, but I don’t want to be.” He blows out a big breath. “Amy, I like you. I like where we’re at right now, and I don’t want this coming out sometime in the future and ruining anything.”

  I chuckle at his exasperated tone. In his garbled rant, the only thing that was important enough for my tired, disorientated brain to latch on to was the fact that he’d just said he liked me. Jared Stone likes me.

  “Why are you there if you don’t want to be?” I snuggle down in the bed, pulling the covers up to my chin.

  He sighs. “The Japanese clients I told you about. We went out for dinner and then drinks, but now, they’re drunk off their faces, causing all sorts of trouble and commotion. They wanted a ‘titty bar’ … their exact words, not mine … so here we are. But I don’t want this to ruin anything between you and me, so I figured I’d just full disclosure the shit out of it and hope it doesn’t ruin my chances with you.”

  “I’ll let you off,” I muse. Sleep is already calling me as I close my eyes.

  Jared lets out what I assume is a sigh of relief and chuckles. “I’ve called in reinforcements. Someone from the office is here now to take over for me because these guys are nowhere near done drinking, and I’m dead on my feet. I’ve been at work since eight, and babysitting drunken, grown-arse men isn’t my idea of a good night out. I was thinking, instead of me going home, could I come to yours?”

  Come to mine? “I’m sleeping,” I mumble.

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I just really want to see you. It’s been a crappy day, and I wanted to end it with a high.”

  “Jared, I’m really tired. I’ll be honest, I’ll likely be back to sleep as soon as you hang up the phone, so there’s no point in you coming here. I’m too tired to get frisky with you.” Though the thought of getting naked and hot with him is waking up certain parts of me.

  “I don’t care. I just want to sleep there with you. No frisky business. Please?” When I don’t answer, he continues, “I’ll make you breakfast in bed.”

  I smile at that, my interest piqued. “Well, what sort of breakfast are we talking? Like toast and cereal or something good?”

  “Something good,” he answers.

  “You cook?”

  “Yes, I cook,” he confirms.

  I smile, more than a little impressed.

  “Please? I don’t want to do anything. I’d just much rather wake up in bed with you than on my own. Please?”

  “I already took my make-up off,” I warn.

  He chuckles. “So did I.”

  I smile and force my tired body up to sitting, rubbing at my eyes as I swing my legs out of bed and stumble in the dark towards my bedroom door. “Fine. Come then. But I’m going back to sleep, so I’m gonna put a key under the mat, and you can let yourself in without waking me again.” When I reach the front door, I pluck my spare key from the hook and open the door, wincing as the light from the communal hallway burns my eyes. After checking the coast is clear, I lift the mat and put the key under it before letting it drop back down again. “Just so you know for the future and in the interest of full disclosure from my end, I like my sleep. I’m not one of those girls you can wake up anytime, who are all cheerful and cute; that’ll never be me. I’m more of a wake me at your peril kind of girl. I will fight you.”

  “Duly noted.” He sounds amused. “See you soon.”

  After hanging up, I close the door and smile to myself as I pad back to my bedroom, slipping back in my warm bed, falling back to sleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.

  When I wake again, luxurious heat is seeping into my back. I’m on my side, and a pair of strong arms is wrapped around me while someone breathes heavily down my neck. I grin, snuggling closer as I dip my head and press my face into the crook of his arm. He smells divine. I let out a little happy sigh. On his wrist, there’s a chunky, expensive-looking watch, and I crane my neck to check the time. It’s only just past eight in the morning, so I know he won’t want to wake yet.

  I lie there for a few seconds, listening to his steady breathing, fighting the urge to roll over so I’m facing him. I want to see his face, I want to watch him sleep, I want to snuggle in his arms forever. I ponder my options. Do I roll over, so I can see him, like I desperately want to do, or do I do what my brain is screaming at me to do and get up to go see what my face looks like? My brain wins. I love waking up with him, but it is a little too early in our relationship for me to feel comfortable with him seeing me au naturel.

  Wincing, I ease myself out of his arms and scoot over to the edge, quietly pushing myself up. When he doesn’t wake, I turn and look down at him sleeping peacefully in my bed. His chest is bare, and his face is relaxed and angelic. My heart squeezes as my teeth sink into my bottom lip. I’m so in love with this man that it’s not even funny. Today will only be our third official date, but I was in love with him way before that coffee shop incident.

  My eyes follow the planes of his chest, drifting lower, and I have the insane urge to reach out and lift the quilt to see if he’s completely naked. My mouth waters at the thought alone, and my breathing hitches. I shake my head and force myself to move because I’m dangerously close to pouncing on him and ravaging his body. I turn and head towards the bathroom. As I pass the chair in the corner of the room, I notice he folded up his clothes again into a precise little pile. It’s so cute; I can’t help but beam a smile. Everything about Jared is neat and organised; even the way he comes to bed is structured and methodical. It’s the total opposite of my leave it where it lands, more chaotic mentality as I undress.

  I head to the bathroom, peeing quickly and then leaning over the sink to wash my face and wipe away my eye boogers before swilling some mouthwash. Grabbing my make-up bag, I apply a thin layer of foundation and a quick sweep of mascara. It’s subtle, so hopefully, he won’t notice.

  After running a brush through my hair and redoing my braid, I head back to the bedroom and slip back in bed with him, happier now that I’m a little more presentable. In his sleep, he rolls to his side, his arms instantly encasing me, pulling me against his hard chest. My nose presses against his collarbone, and I inhale, my eyes drifting closed at the scent of him. He smells edible. I wriggle closer, my body brushing against his, and I’m almost disappointed when I feel the material of his boxer shorts graze against my tummy, so I now know he’s not naked.

  We lie like that for a long time; I’m deliriously happy.

  When he finally begins to stir, I close my eyes and pretend I’m sleeping and that I always wake up, looking this fresh-faced and perfect. Little lies never hurt anyone. He yawns, pulling back a little before he leans in and plants a soft kiss on my forehead. I blink a couple of times for effect and tilt my head to look at him. He smiles down at me.

  “See, much better than waking on my own,” he says, dipping his head and pressing his lips to mine. “Good morning.” His voice is all croaky and filled with sleep, and it has never sounded sexier.

  “Hi.”

  I smile against his mouth as his hand traces down my back, across my hip, and down my thigh. When it gets to my knee, he wraps his long fingers around it and pulls, hitching my leg over his hip. I gasp as his morning glory intimately rubs against me, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue lavishing attention on mine. He rolls, so he’s on top of me, and my arms loop ar
ound his neck.

  He pulls back and smiles, hovering above me. “I’ll go make you breakfast in bed, as I promised.”

  My needy eyes widen, and I groan in frustration, digging my fingers into his back as I tilt my hips up to meet his, eliciting a throaty growl of pleasure from him. “After,” I beg, pulling his mouth to mine.

  He shakes his head and pulls back again. “Amy, once we start, I’m not going to want to stop, so let me feed you first.” He laughs as he leans in and softly kisses my forehead before pushing himself off me.

  A little thrill passes through my body, and I decide I can wait. Maybe I’ll need the energy, if the promise in his voice is anything to go by. “Fine. Do you need any help?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.”

  I watch his tight arse as he struts confidently from my bedroom in just a pair of boxer shorts, looking all kinds of glorious.

  I flop back in the bed and let out a happy sigh, listening to sounds of him clunking around in the kitchen for a while before he comes back in, carrying a tray with two plates and two cups of coffee.

  He sets the tray on my lap, and my eyes widen.

  “I had the ingredients to make all this?” I ask doubtfully. The smell from the cinnamon and syrup wafts up towards me, and my mouth waters as I look longingly at the stack of French toast piled on the plate.

  “I might have stopped on the way here to get a few things.” He shrugs, taking both coffees and putting them on my bedside cabinet before reaching out to take one of the plates.

  I swallow my squeal of delight and lean over, pressing my mouth to his. He kisses me back, and even though I have French toast and syrup in front of me, food is the last thing on my mind.

  He playfully winks at me as he pulls back and picks up his knife and fork, cutting off a huge piece of his breakfast and shovelling it in his mouth.

  I follow suit, starting on mine. As the sweetness hits my tongue, I groan and close my eyes in pleasure. It’s heaven. “I can’t believe you can cook too,” I mumble, hacking at my breakfast and greedily chomping on it.

  “I’m a man of many talents,” he replies, shrugging.