Beauty and the Geek (Gone Geek Book 1) Read online

  “You keep up pretty well where it counts.” Tamara’s grin was pure evil. She stretched out next to him, her chin on his shoulder.

  “I’ll need an hour or two before I’m ready for that kind of exercise.”

  “We don’t have anywhere to be,” she reminded him.

  They’d just gotten into her car that morning and started driving. They’d hit the highway, doing nothing more than flipping radio stations and talking, laughing at stupid jokes, until they’d found a stretch of beach that looked good. Being with her was…natural.

  “I think that guy’s going to break his neck staring at you.” Stephen tracked a guy behind his sunglasses strolling the beach, his head twisted nearly all the way around.

  “Hope he has insurance.” Tamara didn’t even bother to glance the guy’s way. In her world, he didn’t even exist. She fished her phone out of her tote and spent a minute staring at the screen.

  Man, she was amazing. He could learn a lot from her outlook on life. The way she did what she wanted, devil may care style. It’d taken him so long to shake off the self-hatred of his youth, to grow beyond that shy, scared little boy he’d been, idolizing a man who hated the sight of him.

  Tamara’s sharp intake of breath spurred him out of his thoughts.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I might—I have an interview. Sort of.”

  “Sort of? What do you mean?”

  “Okay, so Rashae knows these guys who, a year ago, were nobodies on the YouTube scene. Like, maybe a couple thousand followers. I only knew about them because Adam likes to mock the competition, and Rashae got contracted to make a suit for one of the guys for a special thing. I don’t remember, but it was really good for her. Anyway! Rashae mentioned to the guys that I’m looking for a new gig—and they invited me to a party on…shit…Sunday. Ug.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “We’re road tripping.”

  “So? This is a good break for you, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay, then Sunday morning we head back into town and go to this party. Or you go.”

  “This was supposed to be our weekend.” She frowned. “You have to come with me, if I’m going.”

  “If that’s what you want…”

  “I do.”

  “But?” He could hear the hesitation in her voice.

  “But I have no idea who will be there or what’s going to be said about me.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “Adam talks. A lot.”

  “And we don’t have to listen.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Look, all my life people have had something to say about me. It’s given me the gift of selective hearing, on my good days. If you need to go, and if you want me to go with you, I’m game.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thank you.” Tamara leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You want some more sunscreen?”

  “Sure.”

  “You have such fair skin.” She swiped her hand down his chest. “The tattoo stands out so well on you. They did a really good job.”

  “I get the fair skin from my mom’s side of the family.” He sat up and snagged the sunscreen from her beach tote.

  “Yeah?”

  “She was a redhead.” He squirted some of the lotion into his hands and slicked it down her back.

  “Did you get your eyes from her, too?” Tamara twisted her arm around behind her and released the catch on her top.

  “Must have.” He swallowed and smoothed his hand up over her back and shoulders. The damn vixen was peering up at him from the corner of her eye, all smiles and mischief.

  “So if your mom was a redhead, where’d your black hair come from?”

  “My father was Sicilian.” With the anger and mouth to prove it.

  “Ah. You said that. Any siblings?”

  “No. Just me. You?”

  “I have an older brother, who followed in my parent’s footsteps. He’s gearing up for the Olympic trials soon.”

  “Really? You going to go for it, too?”

  “No, I’m not really competition ready. I haven’t focused on that since…gosh…my early twenties?” She propped her chin up on her hand. Wet tendrils of hair stuck to her face, while most of it remained captured in a knot on top of her head. “Do me up when you’re done?”

  “You still do martial arts though?” He squirted more lotion into his hands, taking pleasure in simply touching her. Of course, his dick had other intentions.

  “Yeah. I’ve done some stunt doubling and fight scenes in a few movies. I mean—it’s L.A. Come on. But mostly I work in games. And doing that CGI stuff isn’t as easy as it sounds. I swear it’s the most exhausting eight-hour day ever.”

  “Done.”

  “You didn’t do my front.” She rolled over, hands crossed behind her head. Her grin said she knew exactly what she was doing.

  He took a second to adjust himself before wiping the sand off her toes and starting all over again.

  “How’d you get into teaching?” she asked.

  “The university contacted me.”

  “And?” She wiggled her toes in his hand.

  “And I was tired of contract work, so I figured, why not teach?” He shrugged and worked his palms up her legs. There were far too many people on the beach all of a sudden for him to have such a raging hard-on.

  “You’re leaving so much out.” And she wanted him to think, while his dick was hard?

  “Well, I told you I used to be a Department of Defense contractor working on drones. What else is there to tell?”

  “A lot! Like, how’d you get into drones in the first place?”

  “Robotics.” He slid his fingers between her thighs, up until he brushed the fabric between her legs.

  “You’re being obtuse on purpose.” She lifted a knee, providing both easier access and a bit of a shield. Too bad he had lotion and sand all over his hands.

  “Habit.” He grinned and lay down next to her, the better to hide his arousal. “Working for the DoD makes you circumspect in answering things.”

  “What about being in front of people though? Did it bother you?”

  “Because of my face?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It…not really. If a kid is an asshole and wants to spend more time talking about my face than learning, I boot them out of class. It’s not like I teach introductory courses, so I get very small, focused groups of students. To date I’ve only kicked one guy out of my class.”

  “Okay, so you, what? Wanted to play Transformers as an adult, so you graduated college—”

  “Did my PhD on drones. It seemed like an industry that was growing the fastest with the most opportunities.” This time he squirted the lotion directly on her stomach.

  “And got hired on by the DoD?”

  “Yes. And during that time I was doing lectures anyway. The university contacted me about a guest professor spot, and through discussions, it changed.” He slid his hands across her abs. The woman had a much better body than he did, and he’d been pretty proud of himself.

  “Because you were ready for—what?”

  “Being a professor, I get to do a lot more…innovative tinkering.” He ran his fingers along the band of her bikini top.

  “Oh, don’t I know?” She grinned and peeled the elastic up until he could see the underside of her breast. “Did you get your idea down earlier?”

  “Yes, and if you’re a good girl I might show it to you, but at this rate you’re going to get us in trouble.” He ducked his head and slicked the lotion up until he bumped her.

  “Trouble? Me? I just don’t want to burn.” She grinned. “And I get to do you next.”

  Her hands. All over him. He was so screwed.

  He had to think about something—anything else.

  “What are your friends up to this weekend?” He switched to her chest�
��the real challenge.

  “Not sure.” Was it his imagination, or did she sound a little breathless?

  She arched her back a bit, her eyes partly closed.

  “My turn?” she asked.

  “We should hit the road now.” He flipped the cap back on the sunscreen.

  “Oh, no. Can’t let that pretty, fair skin of yours burn.” Tamara snatched the bottle out of his hand. She had her leg over his hip, straddling his waist before he could come up with a protest.

  Her warm weight settled on top of him, her ass right over his cock.

  Best day ever.

  9.

  Tamara pulled a sundress out of her suitcase. Her whole body was warm and happy. Given the opportunity, she’d have laid out on the beach all through the afternoon and evening. If she imagined what a cat felt like, she’d assume it was this. Full of sun, well stroked. Well, she had been until Miss Prude a couple yards away from them snapped at Stephen. He’d played the polite professor and had kept his hands to himself since then.

  A travesty.

  There was always later.

  They had the whole weekend.

  Her stomach growled, insistent this time.

  She wiggled the loose-fitting dress into place over her swimsuit and got to spend a whole five seconds ogling Stephen’s abs while he wrestled his shirt on. Poor guy, she’d lotioned him so much that even hours later his shirt was sticking to him.

  Oh, well. She could always give him a complimentary scrub down later.

  Was he serious about taking her to the party?

  Chances were, everyone would be there. It’d be a combination of YouTubers, gamers, and techies. They were some of the strangest parties with half the people hugging the wall and the other half swinging from the chandeliers. Still, she couldn’t deny that most of the job opportunities in her field came about because someone at a party thought it was a good idea to hire someone. She’d just have to carefully prepare Stephen for work-Tamara, who had to put up with a lot more shit with a smile than real-Tamara.

  She poked Stephen’s ribs. He frowned through the neck hole at her.

  “Feed me, Seymour?” She grinned.

  “I’m getting there.”

  She grabbed the hem and helped him tug it into place. God, she was a total perv, but she couldn’t keep her hands off him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and went up on her tiptoes. His hand rested on her ass, the other at the small of her back, drawing her in even closer. He tasted of her lip balm and hot promises.

  “I could totally have an appetizer right now.” She smiled.

  “No.” He tapped her nose.

  “You’re turning down a blow job?”

  “I’m turning down the chance to get fined or arrested.”

  “You’re no fun.” She sighed and groped his butt, just because she could.

  “In the car.” He took out her keys and handed them over.

  Stephen had suggested her car, based on the logical fact that hers got better mileage, and not once had he tried to muscle his way in and drive. It was…refreshing. Different. Every other guy had always insisted they drive his car—or he drive hers. It wasn’t a big deal, but it was just another example in which Stephen was different in a way that mattered. Most of the alpha-gamer types wanted to be in control. At all times. Especially of her. And she didn’t do well with that.

  “You drive.” She turned and got in the passenger side while he circled the car.

  “You aren’t going to try to give me road head, are you?” The way he looked at her was adorably suspicious.

  She laughed and buckled in.

  “That’s not a bad idea, but no. That wasn’t part of my master plan.”

  “Good. Because I’d have to decline. I don’t think I could concentrate.” He adjusted the seat and buckled in. “Where’d the sketchbook get to?

  “In the tote. I’ll get it before we go in. I know you hate being without it.” She leaned over and buzzed his cheek with a kiss. “Can I at least feel you up?”

  “No.”

  “Come on.”

  “No, I don’t want to go through dinner with a boner, and I’m too hungry to wait.”

  “You are no fun,” she said.

  On the contrary, she was having a great time. Stephen could be so serious one moment, and the next, wickedly funny. Rashae would love him. Hell, they’d all probably love him—just so long as it was her he went home with. The girls could be vicious when it came to boyfriends, but when they were good, they were good.

  Tamara behaved on the short drive to a beachside bar, and Stephen rewarded her with a little pat on the ass as they walked into the restaurant.

  They got a table with a nice view of the deck and ocean, the sun already throwing gorgeous shades of pink and orange across the horizon. The whole place was pretty busy, but it was a nice weekend at the beach.

  She took a few moments to RSVP to the party with a plus one and tapped out a quick message to Rashae. She hit Send the moment the screen flipped to an incoming call.

  “Ug.” She dropped the phone onto the table top and jabbed at the End Call button.

  “What’s wrong?” Stephen asked, glancing up from his doodle.

  “Adam keeps calling. I have his calls muted, but they still pop up, and I accidentally answered.”

  “Adam—the Legend guy? He’s calling you?”

  “He’s called like a dozen times today. He must be on a weekend bender or something.” She wrinkled her nose. If he was drunk and still pissed about her, chances were getting out of town was a good idea. She wouldn’t put it past him to show up at her place.

  “Seriously? And this is okay? You can’t report him to the police or anything?”

  “Can I? Yes. Will I? No.”

  “But—this isn’t okay.”

  “No, it’s not, but—ug.” She smoothed her hair back. “If I report every guy that’s obnoxious, I’m going to alienate everyone, and Adam is popular enough I can’t do that.”

  “So…you have to put up with being harassed on a regular basis?”

  “It’s not—no. He’s obnoxious.”

  “Tamara. He’s calling you non-stop and got you fired. How is that not harassment?”

  “I already have the reputation as the Bitch of Gaming.” She leaned forward, pitching her voice lower. “It’s like the kid who called wolf too many times. Because of the scene and statements I made, I have to save my wolf cries for when it’s really wrong. Besides, the cops look at my file and the things I have reported and what they see is someone who causes problems. Not a victim.”

  “That’s—wrong.”

  “Yes, it is. We live in a society that protects men from their wrongdoings by shifting the blame. Which is why, when I’m going to call someone on their shit, I want it to be something more than a slap on the wrist. When I cry wolf, I want people to listen to me, not say, well, she cries wolf about everything. Does that make sense?”

  “I…yes. I wish it didn’t, but I get it. I don’t agree with it. It’s not right.”

  “No, it’s not, and it sucks.”

  “Have you considered doing something else with your life? I don’t know, in some industry you won’t be treated this way?”

  “Would you give up what you love because things got hard?”

  “No.”

  “Then why should I?”

  “That’s—Tamara.”

  “I know. I’m playing devil’s advocate here.” She reached for his hands. “But that’s the way I see it. Why should I let a bunch of dicks run me out of an industry I love? When I started going to cons, there were maybe five girls. Just a few of us. And now? We go to conferences and there are hundreds of girls. Hundreds. And I look at them and I think—maybe this con is safer because I took a stand. Because we pushed for them to have a code of conduct. Because those of us who were wronged stood up for ourselves.”

  “You still shouldn’t have to put up with someone harassing you to save up your…your…wolf cries for something r
eally bad.”

  “You’re exactly right. Things aren’t perfect, and it sucks, but they’re getting better.”

  Stephen frowned at the page he was on and didn’t pick up the same line of conversation. He kept his fierce stare on some doodle he was creating in his ever-present sketchbook. He was always drawing or making notes. She wanted so badly to get a glimpse of what he was working on, to see inside his beautiful head. She liked watching him.

  He was so focused and certain about everything. Right and wrong. It had to be nice. Tamara was hardly ever certain about anything until the last second. Maybe he was right, and she was making a mistake. She sure as hell didn’t like the way Adam treated her, but she also didn’t want to gain a reputation for being hard to work with. And that’s what people would say if she called Adam on his shit.

  Stephen’s mouth twisted up. He glanced to the side, and went back to his drawing, as if he were sensing her thoughts. He was really something special.

  She would have never imagined this. The connection she had with him. He made her feel like a kid, all giddy and excited. She wanted to wrap herself around him, follow him around—whatever it took to be near him. It was lust. But it was also more. He was more than a great dick, amazing brain, and smoking hot body.

  “What are you thinking so hard about?” She peered at the doodle, but it was just circles overlapping more circles with a few rectangles thrown in.

  He clicked the pen a few times, his gaze on her, as though he were looking for an answer to something he hadn’t asked yet.

  “Those two tables are staring.” He flicked his fingers in a casual gesture to his left.

  She glanced that way. A table of dude-bros and another of what appeared to be high school kids, both had at least one person peering their way.

  “I think I’m just used to people staring because of cosplay. I don’t even pay attention to it anymore.” She glanced down just to make sure she didn’t have a nipple showing or anything.

  “I’m willing to bet that when people are staring then—it’s not like that.” He tilted his head again.

  “What do you mean? Stares are stares.” She shrugged.

  “People don’t stare at you like you’re…a monster.”