Page 79 of Capri

“You won’t be saying that when we’re cuddled up on this fluffy-ass couch, watching trash TV and getting sick on junk food.”

I cross my arms at my chest, convincing myself I can remain strong. “We won’t be cuddling, Jones. Friends, remember?”

He shrugs, leveling the stand to the wall. “Friends cuddle.”

“Not friends who have also fucked.” I smile, knowing I got him.

He smirks, pausing his step. “And what a great fuck it was. We should do it again sometime.”

I giggle, and it takes everything in me not to say, “Yes, how about right now?”

“Not a good idea,” I remind him, hating my own decisions at this point.

“Okay, buzzkill. Point taken. Now, help me hold this level.”

I stand beside him, our arms twisted as Jones works on mounting the flatscreen to the wall. The smell of tobacco and cypress whiffs around me, transporting me back in time.

He smells comforting—a scent of home. I want to bundle myself in it.

I don’t realize I’m staring until I break from my daze, finding Jones’ green eyes pinned on mine. My breath catches as his stare drifts to my lips.

I want to kiss him, and I can tell he’s thought about doing the same close to a dozen times since he got here.

But he breaks away first and clears his throat, shaking off our moment. He’s being respectful of my request and right now, I fucking hate it.

“There. I present to you…your new TV, madame,” he says, taking an exaggerated bow.

“How did I ever live without it?” I tease, taking a good look at the gigantic screen on my wall. “It’s so…large.”

“Just think of all the shows we can watch on this bad boy,” Jones says, smiling and patting the side of it.

“Riveting.” I laugh and it feels easy.

“I love your laugh.”

My voice catches in my throat. How does he have so much kindness to give? It’s the kindness that makes you question if he ever receives it.

I see Jones’ genuine heart, and it makes me worry about him. Who does he have looking afterhisheart?

“You’re very smooth, Jones Archer.” I grin.

“Oh, am I, Capri from Capri?”

I nod and take a step closer. “Mhm.”

He meets me head-on. “I think you secretly love how smooth I am. Isn’t that right?”

“Eh, smooth isn’t really my thing,” I murmur softly, my voice just above a whisper. “I prefer hard—rough, even.”

His grin is sinister, masked by charm. He’s a devil on the prowl, waiting for an open door to strike. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. I won’t play fair.”

“Oh, I know exactly how you play.”

Jones reaches to caress the side of my face, and my body shivers, an explosion of emotion taking over. “I’m doing this for you.”

I know what he means. He’s trying to be my friend because I asked him to, not because it’s what he wants.

“Then why are you touching me like we’re more than friends?”

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