Page 109 of Home Game

“Do what you want.”

I creaked open the door. Zoey stood in front of her closet, in the process of pulling out some clothes.

“Hey.” I shut the door behind me.

She stilled, her head bent down.

“What are you doing?”

“I feel stupid.”

“I’m the one who feels stupid.”

She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Why do you feel stupid?”

“You caught me off guard. When you turned around, I was…”

“You were what?”

Here it was. The truth. “I was trying to hide how much you affected me.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“You don’t believe me?”

She rolled her eyes. “You just say shit because you feel sorry for me.”

I walked towards her and grabbed her small wrist. She didn’t flinch. She merely lifted her face up to mine in question.

I pressed her palm to my pulsing cock. Her pretty eyes widened, and they dropped to my jeans.

Mylip curled when her fingers curved around the bulge and lightly squeezed. Fuck that felt good.

“You’re turned on,” she stated, her voice full of wonder.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Is this because of how I look tonight?”

“Yes. No.” I took a deep breath. “I've been attracted to you for a while.”

Those electric blue eyes met mine in disbelief. “For how long?”

I stepped back from her hand that still squeezed me tight. “It doesn’t matter.”

“How could that be? I was all punk rock and scary.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I wanted to laugh at her self-description. Scary was the last adjective I’d use to describe Zoey. Sweet. Soft. Adorable. Sexy as hell. Uninhibited. Innocent yet street smart. “We made a deal when you moved in. No funny business.”

She looked flabbergasted. “That’s why?”

I worked to shift the conversation. “So, do you like your cake?”

Her eyes moved to the door. “Is all that for me?”

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