Page 37 of Until We're More
“If you wanted to own a bookstore, I’m sure you could find a way to make it happen,” he said.
Great. He was thinking about the bookstore dream I had in high school while I was thinking of straddling him and asking him to have sex with me. Clearly not on the same page.
Not even in the same book.
I cleared my throat. “Thanks for your faith, but I like what I do. I wish certain aspects were different and that I had more control over what projects I work on, but I’m good at my job and enjoy thinking outside the box. If I could get rid of my insecurities and boldly state my ideas, I’d be even better at it.”
Thanks, irony, for choosing now to whisper the same would be true about my growing sexual frustration. With it at the consuming point, I was going to have to take care of it myself like I always had to.Not that I can do that with Liam right next to me, so great idea on the sleepover, Chelsea. Absolutely killing it tonight.
I shifted, and the throbbing bundle of nerves currently driving me insane pressed against his solid hipbone. Heat flared, my body getting all the wrong ideas. I could probably come from humping his leg right now.Yeah, that’d be super sexy.
Since that would be more of a nightmare scenario instead of the dream one, I exhaled a shallow breath. “Wow, it just hit me how tired I am.” I rolled over. And immediately missed his warmth, his steady heartbeat, and the way his scent had invaded my senses. “Anyway, guess we should get some shut-eye.”
Disappointment flooded my body even as it raged at me, screaming that he was right there, and I needed the release.
Stupid, stupid idea, and why doesn’t he want me?Surely if he did, he’d make a move, right? Making moves really shouldn’t be up to someone like me.
Two attempts to swallow later, I finally forced words from my mouth. “Good night, Liam.”
It was so quiet, the kind of silence that coated everything with its heaviness, that I figured he must’ve fallen asleep.
But then the bed shifted, and his breath hit my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. His lips touched my cheek, along with a quick scrape of his whiskers, the peck over before I could even think of turning my head—not that my cowardly ass would follow through anyway. “Good night, Chelsea.”
With the swirl of emotions making a mess of my insides and that pulsing ache between my thighs escalating by the second, I was pretty sure it was going to be the most frustrating night ever.
Chapter Sixteen
Liam
I frowned at the vase of pink roses on the counter, with the accompanying card that read, “Had a great time.” Classy-as-fuck move on Kevin’s part, damn him. I wanted to scream thatIwas the one who went to bed with her last night, but there’d been about ten minutes of cuddling, followed by her pulling away.
Followed by an hour of lying there and trying not to get turned on by every noise or small movement she made and failing on all counts. Eventually, my blue balls and I had to retreat to my room to keep from going insane.
George jumped onto the counter and circled the vase of flowers. Since Chelsea had left a note about running to grab coffee, the cat and I could talk freely.
“See, that Kevin guy’s the real threat.” I lifted the package of expensive ham out of the meat drawer and tossed the cat a piece, because I was shit at following through with my bluff. “He takes her out to some fancy club and sends her flowers. Clearly, he’s trying to steal her away from us. Would you like to form an alliance? Find a way to get rid of him?”
George padded closer, and I tossed him another piece of meat. I made a protein shake and turned just in time to see the cat swipe the flowers off the counter. The vase tumbled in slow motion, yet too fast for me to catch it, then shattered on the tile, sending water, flowers, and shards of glass across the floor.
Hmm. Maybe the catwason my side.
The door swung open, and George and I froze, both looking guilty as sin, I’m sure.
“George!Really?”
The cat leaped down, strolled over to Chelsea, and rubbed against her ankles as he purred up at her. She sighed and placed her cup of coffee on the counter.
“Be careful,” I said, grabbing the broom. “There are shards everywhere.”
“I got it.” She jerked the broom from my hand, and I wondered if she was mad or sad about losing the memento from her date. The cat and I might have to have a meeting about this later. “George loves knocking stuff over. I should’ve known better than to put them there.”
“It was nice of Kevin to send flowers,” I said.The bastard.
“Yeah.”
Something was off. For once, I was talking more than she was. “You okay?”
“Just great.” Her inflection implied the opposite. Was she purposely keeping her back to me?
