Page 95 of More Than Pen Pals

“Okay,” she says, “but you’re not allowed to look inside my apartment.”

“That may be taking things a little too far,” I say as I wait for her to unlock the lobby door. “One tiny peek can’t hurt.”

“No, it’s not that. The place is a disaster. You don’t need to witness the extent of my messiness yet.”

“But now that I know about it, why does it matter?”

“It just does.”

I drop the subject and follow her up the stairs, admiring the view as we go.

“Are you staring at my butt?” she asks over her shoulder.

“No,” I say too quickly.

“You’re a terrible liar, Ashley Hamilton.”

Is it weird that I love it when she calls me Ashley?

I grin at her backside. “I’m not sure what you expect me to do. It’s right in my line of vision.”

We reach her floor, and I thread my fingers through hers as we head down the hall.

She squeezes my hand. “I think that might be the real reason you wanted to walk me all the way to my door.”

“You’ll never know.” But I know both reasons are accurate.

Leslie stops at her apartment and sticks her key in the lock but doesn’t turn it. Then she leans back against the door.

Her hair is windblown from our walk, and I tuck it behind her ears, letting my fingers linger on her face. “You’re really not going to let me look inside?” I don’t care if she does, and I’m certain she knows that, but I feel like teasing her.

She gives me a saucy smile. “Nope.”

I put a finger under her chin, tilt her head up, and kiss her forehead, then each cheek, and finally her nose. Her eyes flutter closed.

“There’s nothing I can do to convince you?” I ask.

“Nope.”

I trail the back of my fingers down her neck, and she shudders, eyes still closed.

“Positive?”

“N-nope.”

“Aha! I caught you!”

Her eyes pop open. “I mean, yes! I’m positive!” She gives me a mock glare. “Now stop messing with me and kiss me goodnight.”

I take a step back, stick my hands in my pockets, and resist the urge to smile. “Are you always this demanding? If so, I might need to reconsider our arrangement, Frank.”

She giggles at my use of the ridiculous nickname. “You love it, and you know it.”

I do. “If you want to kiss me so badly, then kiss me.”

Leslie steps into me, places a hand on my chest, and slowly slides it upward until it rests on my neck. I force myself to remain still throughout the torturous process. She swipes her thumb over my Adam’s apple, and I swallow instinctively. She does it again, and a low growl escapes my throat.

“Not so fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, is it?” she taunts.

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