Page 22 of The Love Playbook

Her smile hitches higher. “What’s that?”

I gesture at her vaguely with one hand. “The way you do that. You just sort of … transform. One minute you’re my friend Autumn who’s concerned for me and wants to make sure I’m alright. And the next you’re … this.”

She lets out a soft, sexy laugh. “And what exactly is … this?” Her eyes meet mine, sparking with challenge and … desire.

That’s what that look is. Desire. She wants me.

More blood heads south, and I shift in my seat, making more room in my shorts for my hardening dick.

Her sultry smile turns knowing.

I swallow hard. “You look like seduction personified.”

“Good.” The word is little more than a breath. “What are you going to do about it?”

I suck in a breath, my mouth opens, but I have no idea what to say.

That glittering humor appears in her expression that she so often has on when we’re together, and she takes another slow bite of her food. “Eat up. I have a feeling you’ll need the energy.”

Holy hell.

I’m not sure exactly what I’ve gotten myself into. But I don’t think I want to get out.

* * *

Conversation dries up as we finish our dinner, our exchanges limited to heated looks and seductive poses. At least on Autumn’s part. I probably just stare at her like an idiot, because I have no idea how to react. But whatever I’m doing seems to be alright, because she hasn’t decided I’m not worth the effort. Not yet, anyway.

Once I set my fork down, Autumn stands and comes to my side of the table, holding out her hand for me. Mute, I take her hand and stand, letting her lead me back through the living room to a hallway on the other side. She takes me to a small bedroom that appears even smaller because it’s literally bursting with stuff.

A bed, a desk, and a dresser are all jammed in the small space, along with a nightstand and a bookshelf. And every flat surface is covered with something. Candles, crystals, little glass bottles in an array of colors, clothes draping the back of her chair, more piled on top of the dresser. Books every which way in the bookshelf, more on her desk and nightstand. Her laptop sits on top of a stack of textbooks.

It’s not that it’s dirty. The floor is—mostly—clear, the items that are on the floor line edges of the room to leave space to move in the center of the room. It’s just that there’s so much and none of it is organized at all.

Like.At all.

The books are all intermingled, no rhyme or reason by subject or even fiction versus non. There are knick knacks and tchotchkes in and around the books as well.

There’s juststuff.Everywhere.

Autumn seems to have realized that I’m frozen in my tracks, because she turns back around, seductive Autumn once again replaced by the concerned friend. “Jackson? What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine, fine,” I stammer, still looking all around the room.

“I told you,” she says, stepping in close again, “we won’t do anything you’re not ready for. There’s no need to panic. We don’t even have to get undressed, okay? We can just kiss if that’s all you’re ready for tonight.”

“No, no. It’s not—” I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “I’m not worried about that. I just—” I clamp my lips shut, realizing I’m about to say something that she could potentially find very upsetting. Because what I was going to say is,I just don’t understand how you can live like this.

Chaos.

That’s the best word.

Absolute and unordered chaos.

I gesture around the room. “You, ah, you have an eclectic decorating sense.”

She glances around like she’s seeing the space for the first time, a frown pinching her brows together. “I guess,” she says slowly. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no. No.” I rub the back of my neck, still looking around. “It’s just, uh, it seems like, um, maybe it’s tricky? To, y’know, find stuff? When it’s all …” I gesture around again, hoping she doesn’t hate me.

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