Page 39 of Personal Foul

And yet …

Thoughts of her keep me awake for half the night, tossing and turning, my dick hard like I didn’t just come.

All I know is that I can’t go on like this. I’m not sure exactly how to fix this, I just know I have to. Soon.

* * *

Despite my groggy resolutions in the wee hours of the morning, when I wake up, I find myself unable to implement any changes.

Charity looks adorable, all muzzy with creases on her face from my couch, her hair a little frizzy despite her best efforts to tame it.

I walk into the living room to find her stretching and yawning, her top riding up enough to show a tantalizing strip of skin. I want to drag my finger along it, see if it feels as soft as I imagine.

Probably. She looks like the kind of chick who slathers herself in creams and lotions every morning after her shower.

I wonder what kind she uses. Has she given in to the luxury her parents’ money can buy and gotten into the expensive brands my mom and sister use? Or has she stuck to her roots like she seems to want to and continued with some basic drugstore brand?

My money’s on the latter, not that I’ll ever get to settle the bet with myself. But a weird part of me wants to open up the website for my sister’s preferred skincare brand and tell her to go nuts and hand her my credit card.

Utterly ridiculous. And I need to get any ideas of spoiling her out of my head. She can’t stand me. She’s only here because I’m blackmailing her. And the sooner I remember that, the better off I’ll be.

“Hey,” she says as she lowers her arms, her face wary. She picks up her phone and checks the time. “I think it’s been long enough for me to go home, don’t you?”

Lifting one shoulder, I tip my head from one side to the other. “Arguably, yes. We could have breakfast first, though.”

She eyes me again, clearly hesitant.

“Or coffee, at the very least,” I add before she can speak. For some stupid reason, I don’t want her to say no. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I made you do the walk of shame uncaffeinated and on an empty stomach?”

That gets a grin out of her at least. “No kind of boyfriend at all,” she says as she stands. “But you’re probably right. If I come home starving and guzzling coffee, Isabelle will think there’s trouble in paradise.”

“We can’t have that,” I murmur. “Do you want to eat here or go out? There’s a cute little bakery not far from here.”

Eyes narrowed, she passes me and heads for the kitchen, where she opens the fridge and looks around like she belongs here.

And who can blame her? She’s spent plenty of time here already. And based on the last twenty-four hours, you’d assume I want her to feel comfortable here, right?

Of course she feels free to rummage in my fridge.

When I clear my throat, she pulls out of the fridge and looks at me, eyes wide. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” She closes the door and steps back, gesturing at it. “I suppose you should be the one going through your fridge and offering me whatever you’re willing to feed me, rather than me finding something and digging in.”

Leaning against the island behind her with crossed arms, she looks everywhere except at me. For my part, I stand rooted in place as though I don’t know how to host a woman in my apartment.

Though I guess the problem isn’t with hostingawoman. It’s with hostingthiswoman. It’s not like I’ve really played host to her so far. And why shouldn’t she feel comfortable rummaging for breakfast when she made us popcorn last night?

Words war in my brain, but instead of selecting any that might be appropriate, I grunt and step into the space she vacated, opening the fridge and staring inside, unseeing.

“I could go for eggs,” she murmurs softly. “Maybe on an English muffin. Or toast.” When I glance at her she shrugs. “What? You have both. And you’re just standing there like you’re trying to refrigerate the kitchen.”

Chuckling, I grab the carton of eggs. “How do you like your eggs?”

“I’m easy,” she says, and that makes me laugh.

I look her up and down out of the corner of my eye. “You said that before, and my answer’s the same. I’m gonna have to disagree on that one. You’re anything but easy,Chastity.”

She rolls her eyes at the deliberate wrong name. “Seriously,David? Aren’t we past that yet?”

Laughing, I pull out a pan. “Yes. We are. Good one, though. I’m surprised you haven’t picked new names for me already.”

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