Page 34 of Not That Ridiculous

“Phil,” I said. “How come you’ve got Phil out here with you?”

Kevin was staring dead ahead without blinking. “What?” he said again.

I glanced down, realised my dick was right in front of his face, and stepped back, primly blocking his view with my messenger bag.

“Uh.” Kevin shook his head. “She gave him to me. Miss Lawson, that is. From the newsagent’s? I was waiting here when she dropped him off, and she said it was all right if he waited with me, as I told her you’d be home any minute. She wouldn’t let me in the house. I did tell her you wouldn’t mind.”

He was looking at me expectantly, and a little defiantly.

“I wouldn’t have minded,” I said. And didn’t that blow me away?

I stepped past Kevin and opened the door. Well, I turned the key and gave it a go.

I was all ready to throw myself against it to get the damn thing open when Kevin gently inserted himself between me and the door, set his shoulder to it, and gave a little grunt as he popped it open.

“Thanks,” I said, cheeks warm.

I movedfix front doora couple of places up the mental list of DIY tasks that I’d get around to one day, and gestured him in. “After you.” Phil shoved himself between us and made a beeline for the kitchen. “Phil, that’s rude,” I scolded. “Sorry,” I said to Kevin. “He has no manners.”

Kevin didn’t seem bothered. He’d steadied himself on the doorframe with one hand when all one hundred and forty pounds of greedy dog wanting his supper barrelled past, and had reached out to steady me with a hand on my hip.

We were in kissing distance.

I remembered how it had felt when he kissed me—the softness of his lips, the heat, the surprise of it all. There was no way he didn’t know what I was thinking. I was hardly subtle. I looked down at his lips, and all but burst into flames.

His mouth curled up.

Exasperated with myself, I tugged out of his light hold and marched into the house. Kevin followed me in, and I shut the door behind him.

Of course, it got stuck and wouldn’t close properly.

My messenger bag slipped down to dangle from my bent elbow as I gave the door a good heave. Wood groaned against wood, door against frame. I gritted my teeth and heaved again, letting my bag slide to the floor. I adjusted my stance, and really put my shoulder to it. It was always harder to close than to open. And it wasn’t this hard every day, but on damp days, or rainy days—which we got more than a few of, what with being in the UK—it took a bit of determination.

Before I could bounce off it again, Kevin’s hands settled on the panels either side of my head. I flinched forwards in surprise, plastering my body flat to the door. Heat poured off him, and I felt his breath on the back of my neck as he said, “Let me help.”

“Oh, I’ve got it,” I said. “There’s a trick to it. You just have to know—eep.”

The strong wrists and forearms a couple of inches from my face flexed. Kevin breathed a soft and barely audible, “Uhn,” in my ear as he pushed against the door.

Oh my god.

His whole body was against mine. All the way, head to toe, mashing me against my own front door.

“Wow,” he said. “It really sticks, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said weakly. I was reeling here. Flat-out reeling.

“Let’s give it another go. On three. One, two,three. Uhn.”

Was he…?

Was hehumpingme?

Was that what was happening?

Because he bounced me lightly off the door, his hips bounced clear off my arse before snugging right back in there, and the door didn’t do a damn thing because that had been way too gentle.

“Almost there,” he said. “On three again. One, two?—”

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