Summer Break (Phoebe & Madsen Part 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Whiskey & Honey

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Whiskey & Honey

  Summer Break

  (Phoebe & Madsen Part 2)

  Copyright © 2017 by Andrea Johnston

  Cover and interior design by Uplifting Designs

  Editing by Karen L. of The Proof Is in the Reading, LLC

  Cover Photo: Shuttershock

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. No part of this publication may be stored or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, people – living or dead – is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, characters, businesses, artists, and the like which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  For anyone afraid to bend the rules a little.

  “Baby, you’re not playing fair.”

  Phoebe knows what she’s doing to me. The wicked minx. Sitting naked on my bed with nothing but a white sheet across her waist, her long strawberry-blonde hair a mess as it cascades down her back, and her lack of makeup showing each of the perfect freckles that blanket her nose. The only reason she has the damn sheet around her waist is to protect her lap from the sauce of her Yakisoba noodles. It isn’t like she’s trying to cover up, she’s only protecting herself. My girl isn’t modest, that’s for sure.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mads.”

  I watch as my not girlfriend, because she still refuses to put a label on our relationship, opens her mouth wide and stuffs a huge swirl of noodles in it. The dark sauce drips from her bottom lip onto her chin, and I lick my lips in response. I’m quicker than she is and grab the paper container from her hand. Holding it out of her reach, I lunge toward her with ease and lick the dripping sauce from her chin before she can stop me.

  “Hey, I was eating that!” Phoebe tries her damndest to sound annoyed but the smile on her face confirms she’s happy my tongue is her personal napkin.

  “I think you’re full,” I reply as I place the container on the side table and begin my tongue’s descent from her chin to her neck then farther south to the swells of her breasts. My hand gently grips her breast and lifts her hardening nipple to my mouth when I feel something poking me—in the head. I look toward Phoebe to see a huge grin on her face and a set of chopsticks in her hand.

  “You know I’m all for experimenting in bed, babe, but I don’t think chopsticks are really either of our thing.” She smiles, her eyes filled with lust and mischief as she teases me. I snatch the chopsticks from her hand and toss them across the room; I’ll deal with the mess later.

  I rise to my knees, gripping Phoebe’s hips, and sliding her down so she’s lying on her back. A lock of her hair falls across her face and I instinctively move it away while settling myself between her legs. Our eyes meet and, as always, she takes my breath away. When we hooked up over spring break, I promised I would show her we were more. More than just a quick fuck, more than a hookup, more than casual.

  Phoebe Stromberg has been my greatest gift and the biggest pain in the ass. She’s stubborn, fiercely independent, and scared. Scared of what may be, scared of who she is, and mostly scared of relying on someone else. I’ve spent the last three months trying to show her how much she means to me. Every single day I tell her how much I love her. I wait for the day she finally gives in and says it back.

  It’s painful and fucking annoying as hell. I know she loves me. Hell, everyone who has met us knows she loves me. Her dad has already asked my intentions, her mom has asked if I’ll agree to a large wedding, and her brother has demanded we have a joint bachelor party. Her brother, Duncan, is also my best friend and already engaged to Phoebe’s best friend, Kelsey.

  See, everyone knows we’re supposed to be together. Everyone accepts this relationship is it for both of us. Everyone except Phoebe. Phoebe won’t acknowledge we’re actually in a relationship. She says she doesn’t do labels. Labels put restrictions on growth, and if we label what we have, then we’re doomed to fail. I disagree. But, that’s what you do, right? When you care more about the person you’re with than yourself? Give her all the time and space she needs.

  “Why are you staring at me like that, Mads? You look like you want to either eat me or kill me.”

  “Baby, I’d never kill you. I’d like to eat you, that’s for sure,” I say while tugging the sheet from underneath me. Her perfect body is laid out before me to feast on, and I love nothing more than knowing she is mine.

  “Is this my birthday present?” Phoebe’s breath hitches as I grant myself the first taste of her. My response is a slow and deep “Mm-hmm,” which I know sends shockwaves through her core.

  Today is her twenty-third birthday, and her parents are throwing Duncan and her a huge party. It’s also a graduation party to celebrate the end of an era for all four of us—Phoebe, Duncan, Kelsey and I graduated from college a few weeks ago. Her dad hinted he had a big surprise for all of us, which I’ve assumed is some sort of trip because he has been asking about our summer plans. I can only hope it isn’t a family trip with Mr. and Mrs. Stromberg. That would be the biggest cock block ever.

  Speaking of cock, mine is about to fucking burst with the way Phoebe is moaning my name. If she says the word “pussy” one more time, I’m sure to blow a load before I even get inside her.

  “Mads, I need you to fuck me,” she groans as she tugs at my hair. I’m resilient and a man with a plan—at least one orgasm before fucking. I had no sooner thought it than Phoebe grants me her first orgasm.

  I pull back and lift to my knees again, lining up my dick with her sweet pussy. Looking up, I catch her eyes, a euphoric expression greets me, and I smile back. Her hands reach for my biceps and pull me toward her. Hovering over her with my forearms resting on either side of her head, I begin moving my hips as she captures my mouth with her own.

  We continue kissing and fucking until I feel my balls get heavier, my orgasm quickly approaching. I give Phoebe my telltale moan, which causes her to smile. “Yes
, baby. Fuck me. God, I love the way you fuck me. Are you close, Mads?” Goddammit. She knows the minute she starts dirty talking I’m going to explode. It only takes a few more words from her and we’re both panting as our orgasms combust.

  “Happy birthday, Phoebe.”

  “Yes, it is. I lo—” She doesn’t finish her declaration, catching herself before she says the word “love”.

  “I know, baby. I love you, too. Now, get your ass in the shower before we’re late. I don’t want to deal with the wrath of your mom.”

  “Do we have to go? You know my dad is just going to ask me what I’m going to do with my life.” She does a horrible impression of her father, causing me to shiver in response. “I’d rather stay here with you. This is my favorite place.”

  I stand from the bed and tug her feet toward the end, a child-like pout overtakes her face. I raise a brow to her in response. She rolls her eyes.

  “Phoebs, I appreciate the effort, but this is not your favorite place. That, my love, would be Nordstrom.”

  “Is not.”

  I look at her questioningly. “Okay, fine it’s a tie. I mean, you know how much I love my shoes and purses. But, I do love being here, too.”

  “I know, but really we have an hour to get out of here, or we’re really going to be late. Your mom texted all of us three times today, reminding us to be there on time. She scares me, you know that.”

  “She does not, but fine. We probably shouldn’t shower together. I may find a few ways to make us late, and I wouldn’t want you to cry when Mom gives you shit for being late.”

  “Good call. You go first, and I’m going to check my email really quick. Be fast.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she says dismissively as she heads toward the bathroom.

  I lucked out when my college buddy needed to sublet this place the last few months of his lease. Phoebe and I have enjoyed having a place together that isn’t the dorms or frat house. I pull on a pair of gym shorts and walk out to the kitchen where my laptop is charging.

  I didn’t shut down my browser earlier so the moment I open the laptop my email inbox comes to life. The first email on the list is from Mrs. Stromberg to the four of us, reminding us the importance of being on time. Seriously, you’d think the guest list for this party included Brad Pitt and The Rock—Phoebe and Duncan’s favorite actors respectively.

  After scrolling past a few emails, I note the sender of the headhunter I’m signed with. I skim the opening niceties and assume this is yet another update to let me know there is no interest in my résumé when I see the words “interested” and “interview.” As I continue to read, my eyes widen—one of my top five dream companies has indicated an interest. In me.

  Holy shit. This is huge. I’ve been out of college a few weeks, and while I kicked ass in academics, I wasn’t expecting one of the top corporations from my prospective employer list to respond. I pin the email to the top to read later just as Phoebe walks into the living room with a towel wrapped around her body and another in her hand as she dries her hair.

  I’m a lucky bastard. Phoebe is everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman. But, seeing her here in only a towel, fresh from the shower, with no makeup on, her skin pinkened . . . well, it does it for me in more ways than I can describe.

  “Your turn. I checked my phone. My mom sent us all an email. We really need to get moving. I can do my makeup in the car so I can focus on this mop of mine,” she says while bending over to wrap her hair in the towel.

  I’m heading for the bathroom when I stop and grab her by the waist and place a quick kiss to her lips. “Wear it natural, you know it’s my favorite. And you don’t need makeup, you’re beautiful.”

  “Stop being sweet and go shower.”

  I walk away, leaving Phoebe alone in the living room with a huge grin on my face. I’m not sure life can get much better than this.

  While I showered, Duncan called Phoebe and suggested we should all ride together. Knowing Duncan, he wants to use us an excuse to leave the party early if he’s bored. Truth be told, I was surprised Kelsey wasn’t already at the Strombergs. She and Mrs. S have been bosom buddies since Duncan proposed over spring break. When he showed me the ring on our way to the airport that morning I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. Duncan and I have been close for years, but he’s definitely the immature one of the two of us. After I stopped laughing, he explained how Kelsey was the girl for him, his one true love or some shit, and I was stunned silent.

  When he explained it was step one and the actual wedding wouldn’t be for a few years, I knew he was an idiot. I know Kelsey, and I know his mom, which means a wedding was imminent regardless of what he thought. So, this New Year’s Eve, instead of riding the slopes in Colorado like we had planned, we’ll be in Florida, and I’ll be making a best man toast.

  And, no, none of us are from Florida nor have we spent much time there. But Kelsey and Duncan decided it’s the only place for their wedding. It is, after all, where they got engaged. I’m okay with it; it’s also where I finally got the girl. I’m looking forward to a week with Phoebe in the sand and sun, while the northern part of the country is covered in snow.

  Phoebe wasn’t surprised by the fast-tracked wedding plans either. As Kelsey’s roommate and best friend, she was privy to all of her life goals and plans, regardless of how ridiculous she thought they were. After she agreed to take the plunge and actually date me, I told her about Duncan’s assumption for a long engagement. She laughed harder than I’d ever heard her laugh before. Phoebe may be Duncan’s twin sister, but she is loyal to Kelsey and never mentioned the four-inch binder of wedding plans under her bed. Poor Duncan. He never stood a chance.

  Once I’ve buttoned the last button of my shirt, I walk out to the living room where Phoebe, Kelsey, and Duncan are waiting.

  “What’s up, man?” Duncan greets me with a fist bump.

  “Nothing, much.” I glance at my watch and the girls, sitting on the couch. Phoebe left her hair natural like I suggested. She looks beautiful as always, but when she’s like this, natural and unfiltered, I can’t help falling a little more in love with her. Yep, I’m fully whipped, and I don’t care. “We should probably get going, we’re cutting it close.”

  “We’re ready,” Kelsey announces as she giggles at something Phoebe whispers to her, causing Duncan and me to look at them questioningly.

  “What? I said you look hot, babe, and if we don’t leave I’m going to make us really late.”

  “Jesus, Phoebs. I’m right here. Stop perving out on Mads.” Duncan acts visibly disgusted with Phoebe’s declaration, but he’s one to talk. We’ve had to listen to him go on and on about his and Kelsey’s sex life for over a year. I’m all for being close, but sometimes I wonder if he forgets Phoebe is his twin sister.

  “Oh, shut up. Happy birthday by the way. You’re welcome for sharing the womb with me.”

  “You’re welcome for sharing the womb with me. Respect your older brother, sis.”

  And so, it begins. For the next two hours, we listen to Duncan and Phoebe verbally spar and pick at one another while I drive and Kelsey taps her phone in the backseat. The one guarantee when Phoebe and Duncan are together is the picking. It’s full of love, but if we could just have one night without bickering that’d be great.

  The email from the headhunter is still in the forefront of my mind, and I can’t wait to tell Phoebe about it. I know she’ll be excited for me, and moving to the fashion capital of the United States is just a bonus for her. I have no doubt in my mind that once we’re living on our own, away from our parents and friends, she’ll finally put a label on our relationship.

  “I don’t know why they insist on such a production.” Phoebe hates when her parents make a huge fuss over anything she does, but for some reason this birthday and graduation have been extra frustrating to her over the last few months. I pull behind a Bentley and am instantly reminded of how well off the Strombergs are. When I approach the valet stand, a guy a few years younger than
us opens my door.

  “Sir, your ticket.”

  “Thanks, man,” I reply and stuff the ticket stub into my pocket and walk around to take Phoebe’s hand. Duncan and Kelsey have already made their way to the pathway leading to the side of the house. I know the party is set up in the backyard, and there will be a large tent housing dozens of tables, at least two fully stocked bars, and since the only thing Phoebe and Duncan agree on is tacos, a taco truck parked to the side. The looks Mr. and Mrs. Stromberg gave Phoebe and Duncan when they insisted on an actual taco truck were priceless. It’s the looks memes are made of. Hilariously horrified.

  “Thanks for being here.” Phoebe smooths the front of her dress as we walk.

  “Hey,” I say, tugging her off the pathway and apologizing to passersby as I do. “Where else would I be?”

  “I don’t know. I just . . . you know how I get. I hate all of this.” She pauses, waving her hand around dismissively. “I just want to live my life. Why couldn’t we just go out to dinner like normal people. Why do my parents have to do all of this? And, to such an extreme? A tent? It’s so pretentious.”

  I release Phoebe’s hand to place my hands on her hips. As I pull her toward me, her breath hitches, and her hands instantly find their way behind my neck. We look like we’re dancing. Maybe we are. Sometimes it feels like we’re dancing around the future, never really moving forward and, thankfully, not moving backward. But, unlike now, the relationship dance is me waiting for her to finally give in and let me lead.

  “Your parents love you, and they want you to have the best. There’s nothing wrong with that. Sure, it’s a little over the top for you and me, but for them it’s what they do.”

  “I know. Ugh, and I feel like such a jerk complaining. I know everyone will ask for all of these plans I’m supposed to have. Like, you get that degree and suddenly you’re supposed to have all the answers. Mads, I don’t have answers.”

  “Nobody says you have to have the answers. Look, we have the entire summer to figure everything out. I want to talk to you about some stuff later, but this is your birthday. You deserve to be celebrated, so when someone asks you about your plans tell them you’re working on it and happy to be here with the people who love you the most. Can you do that?”