Page 41 of Holly Ever After

I can do this.

I can ignore him.

I can do this.

Before I can do anything, he pulls away, his gaze never leaving mine as he lifts a brow.

He knows I want him.

He knows I'm practically crawling up his body.

That grin he loves to flash when he's about to get what he wants spreads across his face.

I'm screwed.

He schools his features into that same smug impression. “As much as I'd love to stay for round two, I've got to go.”

What?

I swear I almost cry.

It's an aneurysm. It's the only explanation.

Or a life-threatening surge in hormones that make me so horny I'm ready to drop to my knees in front of him.

It doesn't matter. When he leaves, I'm going to hit my head so hard against the wall I'll knock some sense into myself.

“Okay,” I whisper.

Okay?

Get a grip, Holly.

Grabbing my coffee mug, I follow him into the living room where he's sticking his feet into a pair of jeans that I didn't notice before. The jeans are at the end of the couch, neatly folded, and I wonder how long he's been awake.

“Damn,” I mutter, “those were some good abs.”

“Did you say something?” he asks, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Just noting that you actually fold your jeans. Who knew you were so domestic?”

He chuckles, grabbing his boots. “I'll have you know, I'm a man of many talents.”

Oh, God, I’m painfully turned on. “Is that right?”

He winks at me.

Bastard.

“Where are you off to so early in the morning?”

Why do I sound so needy? Why don’t I care?

“I'm meeting your brother later to help him assemble a cot for the baby. You know, brotherly bonding with drills and screws.”

“Ah, yes, masculinity at its finest,” I quip. “Making furniture while discussing the game last night.”

“Exactly, you're catching on.”

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