Page 27 of A Favor Owed

I knew I’d kiss her tonight. I didn’t know how much I’d want to. I sure as hell didn’t know that I’d never want to stop.

Kissing Angie just makes me want more. A lot more.

We go upstairs, towels wrapped around us, empty drinks in our hands. It takes every ounce of control I have not to grab her, wet bathing suit and all, and pull her onto the sofa to continue where we left off.

“Do you want a T-shirt or something?” I ask her.Do you want me to peel that bikini off you?

“I brought stuff to change into,” she says, heading down the hall to my room.

“Cool.”Please don’t let it be something that turns me on even more.

No such luck. When she comes out a few minutes later, she’s in short cotton shorts and the FDNY sweatshirt I’d given her in class. Fuck me. Like literally. Right now.

“I’ve been meaning to give this back to you,” she says, giving the sweatshirt a little tug.

“It’s cool,” I say, heading to my room to change. I manage to walk past her without pushing her up against the wall and yanking off that sweatshirt and whatever she might be wearing under it. Once I’m safely in my room, I put on mesh shorts and a clean T-shirt and brush my teeth, taking my time and thinking hard about the Yankees to get my mind off the gorgeous girl in my living room. Stats, bullpen, latest trades… Yeah, okay, that’s kind of working.

When I go back out to the living room, she’s sitting on the sofa, knees tucked up under her chin, arms wrapped around her legs.

“It’s almost five o’clock in the morning,” she announces.

“Yeah, I know. You want to go to sleep?”

She stares at me.“Here?”

I look around. “Uh, yeah.”

More staring.

“Good Catholic boy, remember?” I remind her.

“Um, so, do you want me to sleep on your sofa?” she asks.

“Not that good.”

She cocks her head at me, a slight smile playing on her lips. “You actually want me to sleep in your room with you.”

“Yeah. What’s the matter, Pines? Can’t handle it? Am I going to have to fight you off all night?”

That makes her laugh a little. But she’s nervous as hell. I can see it in her eyes.

“Come on, princess. I’m wrecked. You don’t want me to crash my car driving you home, right?” A little guilt never hurt. I start heading back down the hall, not giving her another chance to say no. Sure enough, I hear her get off the sofa and follow me.Yes.

I climb into bed and pull the covers back for her. She hesitates in the doorway for a few seconds, but then she comes over and climbs in next to me. I turn out the light. She takes off my sweatshirt, revealing a thin cotton tank top. There’s just enough light from outside for me to watch her unpin her silver hair and let her braid fall over her shoulder. She takes the elastic off and is about to unbraid it.

“Can I do it?”

Her hands freeze. “You want to unbraid my hair?” she says, her voice hushed.

“Yeah. Is that weird?” It’s definitely weird, and not part of the plan. I don’t know where the hell that came from.

“No, it’s okay,” she says. “You can if you want to.”

I sit up, and she turns her back to me. I pull her braid over her shoulder and slowly begin to unravel her hair. My hands are shaking slightly. I’ve never touched a girl’s hair like this, and I’m not sure why I’m doing it now. It’s oddly intimate without being sexual.

“Am I hurting you?” I ask, worried that I’m pulling her hair.

“No,” she says. “It feels nice.” Okay, well, that’s good.

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