No Strings Attached (The Pink Bean Series Book 1) Read online

  “It’s a good thing,” Amber had said when she’d arrived earlier. “It’s best not to wear these things out too long.”

  “Here we go,” Amber said and presented Kristin and Sheryl with a tray of hummus and aubergine dip she had brought.

  ✶ ✶ ✶

  “What with it being all the rage these days, I’ve tried it several times, but I could just never get the hang of it. I’m sure it’s me, but I don’t have the right mindset to practice yoga,” Martha said to Amber after learning she was an instructor.

  Uh-oh, here we go. That’s the conversation hijacked for the next thirty minutes. Mickey loved Amber dearly, but she could go on and on about a subject she was passionate about. Yoga was number one on her list.

  “Then I can only assume you just haven’t come across the right instructor for you yet,” Amber, to Micky’s great surprise, simply said. “I invite you to come to one of my classes and I will happily change your mind.”

  Martha smiled at her, then cocked her head. “Such utter confidence. I like it.”

  Amber smiled back with the most wattage her smile could muster, then looked away from Martha, stared briefly at Micky, and folded her features into a more demure expression again.

  “Can you give me a quick hand in the kitchen, please?” Micky asked.

  “Sure.” Amber jumped up promptly.

  Micky ushered her into the utility room. “What do you think of Martha?” she asked.

  “She is really nice. So interesting, well-spoken, and frankly, gorgeous. I say go for it!” Her voice shot up.

  “I thought you would say that.” Micky tried to hold Amber’s gaze, but her glance kept flitting away.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Instead of giving her the yoga speech, you just invited her to one of your classes.” Micky couldn’t keep a note of indignation from her voice.

  “So?”

  “In all the years you’ve discovered yoga, I’ve never known you to not give the speech.”

  “What are you insinuating?” Amber asked.

  Micky took a breath. “You like her.”

  “No, I don’t.” There was no conviction to Amber’s words. She was incapable of lying, especially to Micky.

  “You were just summing up all her good qualities.”

  “For you, just to tip you over the edge. She likes you, any fool can see that.”

  A knock on the door startled them. “Everything okay in here?” Kristin asked. “You probably didn’t hear, Micky, but your doorbell just rang. Has the stripper arrived early?” she joked.

  “What?” Instantly, Micky thought about the children. Where was her phone? Had Darren tried to reach her?

  “Do you want me to get it?” Kristin asked.

  “I’ll get it,” Amber offered. She was probably in a panic as well—or happy to not be subjected to Micky’s questions any longer. She scooted out of the tiny utility room where they had been cramped together.

  Micky had completely forgotten why she had come into the kitchen in the first place, apart from wanting to quiz Amber.

  “Micky.” Amber stuck her head into the kitchen. “You may want to come out here.”

  “What is it?”

  Amber looked more amused than anything else.

  With a thudding heart, Micky made her way to the hallway, only to find Robin standing in her doorway.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Amber said, and ducked past Micky, back into the living room.

  Apart from a closed-off washroom, the ground floor of Micky’s house was one big space, and the only separation between the hallway and the living room, where her guests were gathered, and probably wondering what was going on, was a small dividing wall with no door.

  “I’m sorry,” Robin said. “You have guests. I should have called or texted.” Just then, a cloud broke, and rain started pelting down on the sidewalk.

  Micky didn’t know what to say or do, so she just pulled Robin inside and closed the door behind her.

  What was she doing there?

  ✶ ✶ ✶

  “I’m having some people over,” Micky said after the first shock of Robin turning up out of the blue had subsided. “Do you want to join us? You can hardly go out in that rainstorm.”

  “I don’t want to intrude, Micky. I just wanted to say something… in private. But I guess that’s out of the question.” She took a step backward toward the door. “I’ll come back some other time.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Micky had no idea what she was doing. She wanted to hear what Robin wanted to say so badly.

  “Look,” Robin whispered. “I get that you don’t want to be just friends. Turns out I’m not so keen on the idea either, what with not being able to stop thinking about you.”

  Micky’s eyes grew wide. Had she heard that correctly? Had Robin just said, in hushed and conspiratorial tones, exactly what she had wanted to hear?

  “That’s all I wanted to say. Why don’t you give me a call tomorrow?” Robin made for the door again. “You’d better get back to your guests.” She cast one last glance at Micky, opened the door, and disappeared into the pouring rain.

  Micky just stood there for a while longer, savoring the moment, though it had already passed. Goodness. Robin wanted to be more than friends. Damn. Martha was sitting in her living room. And Amber… she would have to come to her rescue once again. She’d have to come down from her moral high ground and turn up the flirting with Martha. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already been doing it anyway.

  Micky stepped back into the living room to find all four of them staring at her. Micky hadn’t told Martha about Robin. What was she supposed to say?

  “Sorry about the interruption.” She headed to the kitchen. Which course were they at again? Oh yes, she’d served the mains and it was almost time for dessert. Underneath the panic about the food and keeping her company entertained, however, Micky was in full rejoice mode. Robin’s words were starting to really sink in. She wanted nothing more than to run after her, tell her how she felt—although she guessed she’d made that clear already.

  She rummaged around in the kitchen for a couple of minutes, doing nothing in particular while she tried to gather her thoughts. Right. Dessert. Micky hadn’t made a big deal out of it and had just bought five tartlets at the most upmarket bakery she knew. In her experience, once guests reached dessert, they were either too full from the copious previous dishes, or too boozed up to truly enjoy her efforts.

  She turned away from the sink and the stack of dirty dishes inside it. “Coffee anyone?”

  “Why don’t you come sit with us for a bit and have something stronger,” Sheryl said. “You look like you need it.”

  Micky was so happy Sheryl was there. If it had just been Amber, she’d be boiling water for a cup of peppermint tea—because green tea this late at night was not a good idea according to Amber.

  “I know where she keeps the good stuff.” Amber got up and headed for the drinks cabinet.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Sheryl asked. “Or am I being too nosy?”

  Micky sat down. She had put herself across from Martha, whom she couldn’t look in the face right then.

  “Don’t worry about me, Micky,” Martha said. “Sheryl briefed me about Robin. She wouldn’t have been a very good friend if she hadn’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought it was over,” Micky said. This was a very odd thing to be apologizing for, especially because Micky felt more like jumping up and down with glee.

  Amber deposited five glasses and an unopened bottle of brandy on the table.

  “This is good news,” Kristin added.

  “It is. It’s just a bit unexpected, and well, the timing is a bit off, I guess.” Micky couldn’t help a stupid grin from appearing on her face.

  “What are you going to do?” Sheryl asked.

  Have really amazing sex and probably have my heart broken. “I’ll go see her tomorrow.”

  Amber planted a, by her measures, generously fille
d glass of brandy in front of Micky.

  “I guess we’ll just be friends then.” Martha held up her glass for an impromptu toast.

  Micky could kiss her, though that would be a bit ironic, for sucking some tension from the room like that.

  She was finally able to hold Martha’s gaze for longer than a split second. “I would really like that.”

  Next to her, though she would never admit it, Amber sat beaming.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Micky desperately wanted to get some sleep, but it was impossible. She’d also been a bit too liberal with the brandy in order to calm her nerves. She lay tossing and turning in her bed, alone, thinking that she could be in Robin’s bed right then. “Patience,” she kept whispering to herself, as she calculated what would be a decent time to call Robin the next morning.

  Oh, screw it. She could just send a message now. She’d waited long enough.

  Can’t sleep, she typed. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

  She hoped that at least giving Robin a sign that she was very appreciative of her gesture would give her some peace of mind. It didn’t. She also didn’t want to fall asleep now in case Robin was suffering from insomnia as well. She lay on her side, glancing at her phone on the nightstand, waiting for it to light up with a message.

  While she did, she considered how graciously Martha had taken Robin’s interruption. Micky didn’t feel too guilty about that, though, because the spark between her and Amber had been so obvious. After everyone had left, Micky had teased Amber about it, and her friend had turned beet red—to Micky’s great delight.

  Just as she started dozing off, sheer exhaustion taking over, her phone lit up. Instantly, Micky was wide awake again.

  Can’t sleep either. Shall I come over?

  Oh God. Yes, please, was Micky’s first thought, but her house was a mess after the dinner party, dishes piled high in the open kitchen—not to mention how messy Micky herself looked. Additionally, the rainstorm that had started when Robin rang her bell had softened a little, but it was still pouring down outside. Micky couldn’t, in good conscience, ask Robin to make her way to her through that kind of weather again.

  I’ll come to you, she texted back.

  She jumped out of bed and was reminded that she was operating on no sleep at all. But, to hell with it, she could still pull an all-nighter. As soon as she got to Robin’s, she could sink into her embrace, and fall into the most blissful sleep. Yeah, right.

  Micky took a quick shower, but did nothing to her hair because the rain would ruin it, anyway. Then she set off into the dark, stormy night. Just walking out of her door at two in the morning was a thrill—and then there was the woman she was going to see.

  ✶ ✶ ✶

  As soon as Micky rang the bell, Robin’s intercom buzzed. She must have been lying in wait. Micky stabbed the elevator button frantically, then when it didn’t arrive soon enough, decided to take the stairs instead.

  With energy she had no idea she possessed, she rushed up the stairs to Robin’s place. The door was ajar when she got there.

  Out of breath, but her entire being pulsing with adrenaline, Micky slowly pushed the door open.

  Robin stood in the middle of the living room, wearing only a pair of stripy boy shorts and a very tight tank top.

  The adrenaline in Micky’s body quickly turned into something fierier, more urgent. Without saying a word, she shoved the door shut behind her, not breaking eye contact with Robin, and took a few quick strides toward her.

  Micky’s jacket—she hadn’t even had the presence of mind to take an umbrella—was dripping raindrops onto the floor. It was the only sound, apart from her quickening breath, in the apartment.

  “There you are,” Robin said, and bridged the remaining gap between them.

  She unzipped Micky’s rain jacket and just let it fall to the floor, into the small puddle it had already created.

  First and foremost, Micky was overcome with lust, but it wasn’t the only emotion throbbing underneath her skin. There was relief and gratitude and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on just yet. It didn’t matter. She was there.

  Robin folded her strong arms around Micky. “I know we need to talk, but can we do that tomorrow?” she whispered into Micky’s ear.

  Micky nodded, her chin bumping against Robin’s shoulder. Oh, those shoulders and how her shoulder line looked in that tank top. Micky was beginning to salivate. She pressed her lips against Robin’s skin and inhaled her scent.

  She felt Robin’s hands tugging at her T-shirt, starting to hoist it up. “I want you,” Robin whispered, and Micky thought she might crash to her knees.

  Not as much as I want you, Micky wanted to say, but she was just glad to hear the words. They would deal with the consequences of their desire later. Now, it was the middle of the night, and they had a lot of unfinished business to attend to.

  Robin pulled Micky’s T-shirt over her head, then unsnapped her jeans button.

  That’s right. Why waste time? In the short time span she’d been in Robin’s apartment and in her magnetic presence, her entire being had turned into red hot desire, into fast-breathing lust. All she wanted was Robin all over her again. It was all she had wanted since Robin left her house that Sunday.

  Robin pushed her jeans down while Micky tried to kick off her shoes. They were wet and stuck to her feet, but she managed in the end, and then she stood in front of Robin in just her underwear. No matter how flimsy—Micky had dressed for the occasion—it still felt like too much on her, too much fabric covering crucial parts of her.

  “Come here.” Robin pulled her to her and then, at last, kissed her.

  While their lips met, brazen and wide from the get-go, Robin’s hands were all over Micky’s body, and Micky wasn’t shy herself. She pressed her fingertips into Robin’s strong biceps, let herself get carried away by the firmness of her body, not caring one bit about how her own looked in comparison. Because Robin had come to her, had chosen her.

  While their lips remained glued together, and their tongues danced with each other, Robin spun Micky around and walked her backward until her back touched the wall.

  Robin quickly proceeded, while keeping her lips glued to Micky’s, to bring her hands between Micky’s back and the wall to unsnap her bra. This made Micky wonder about the point of bothering to wear sexy lingerie if it was going to come off so swiftly—a course of action she very much agreed with. Besides, Robin’s shorts and tank top were so much hotter, although, again, Micky just wanted to rip them off her. So she did.

  Their lips broke apart, and Micky reached for Robin’s top. Robin lifted up her arms, and Micky pulled it over her head, not as smoothly as she would have wanted to, because the garment was tight and its fabric not very stretchy. But then, Robin’s glorious breasts were unveiled to her once again. Micky felt her panties go even damper. Before Robin, Micky had gone without the sensual touch of another human being for years, and look at what the effect of two weeks without Robin was having on her now. Her clit was pounding, her nipples were rock hard, her entire body was aching to be covered by all of Robin.

  “Turn around,” Robin whispered.

  Micky cocked her head, not quite sure what Robin meant. Besides, if she faced the wall, she wouldn’t have her eyes on Robin’s chest anymore, and where was the fun in that?

  “Go on.” Robin put her hands on Micky’s waist and coaxed her until Micky swiveled around. Micky had to be honest with herself. If Robin asked her to fly to the moon right then, she probably would—as long as the reward was Robin’s fingers buried deep in her pussy afterward.

  Micky planted her hands against the wall and, as soon as she felt Robin’s hands on her back, closed her eyes. Robin’s fingers trailed down the skin of her back, along the waistband of her panties, which must be fully drenched by now. Robin hooked a finger underneath and, slowly, pulled the panties down Micky’s behind and legs. Micky stepped out of them, and finally, she was freed of all constraints. Sh
e spread her legs and took a deep breath. She was more than ready for whatever Robin had in store for her. Admittedly, not being able to see what Robin was doing, or being able to gauge her next move, was arousing.

  A trickle of wetness escaped from Micky’s nether lips. This must be the wettest she’d ever been in her life. Now Robin pressed her firm breasts against Micky’s back and her lips touched down on her neck, then her right shoulder. Meanwhile, Robin’s hands fluttered down her sides, over her belly, skimmed along her pubic hair.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Robin whispered in her ear, then she let her teeth sink into Micky’s earlobe. “The more I tried to ignore your existence, the more I wanted you.”

  To Micky, hearing these words had the same effect as having two fingers slipped inside her wet and wanting pussy. Robin’s fingertips skirting her skin and her lips hovering around her ear and neck felt like tiny shocks of electricity being administered. A sensation Micky wanted more of, though there was something else she wanted even more. Then, completely free of inhibitions and whatever logic, faulty or otherwise, had stopped her from doing so, Micky spoke the words that were at the forefront of her mind.

  “Fuck me,” she said. “Oh, please, fuck me.”

  Robin gave a breathy chuckle in her ear. “Oh, I will, Micky. I will.” Her hands meandered along Micky’s back, to her buttocks, where they traced along Micky’s skin in the lightest of touches.

  More juices slid down Micky’s inner thighs. She’d be creating a puddle on the floor soon, like her wet jacket had done earlier. Extreme wetness really was the theme of this night.

  Robin’s fingers had reached Micky’s inner thighs now. They trailed upward, and Micky braced herself, but the fingers kept caressing instead of going where Micky so desperately wanted them. In that moment, it felt like she had been waiting for Robin’s fingers to enter her for as long as she could remember. She was done waiting. She turned around, pushing Robin away from her in the process, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her close again.