Page 67 of Chasing Xander
“Sorry I slept so long.”
“Don’t apologize. Are you feeling a little better?”
She shrugged.
“It’s almost seven o’clock. Are you hungry?”
“A little, but I don’t want to go anywhere. And I’m almost positive there’s nothing in this house to eat.”
“That’s okay.” He straightened. “We can order takeout, or I can go get something and bring it back.”
“The local diner delivers. They have the best chicken parm.”
He smiled, and his stomach growled. “That sounds perfect.” He moved away from the door and into the hallway.
She followed. “I’ll call and order the food.”
“I can do it, if you want. But I’ll need the number.”
“No, I need to do something or I’m going to lose my mind.”
He nodded, and they went downstairs. He checked his email and social media while she placed the order. He had a dozen emails from his professors with all of the assignments he was missing. It would take him forever to catch up, and he was kicking himself in the ass for not bringing his books with him. He was sure his father would have something to say about it, too.
She joined him on the couch. “It should be here in half an hour or so.”
Setting his phone on the coffee table, he draped his arm around her shoulders and tucked her against his side. She sighed and scooted down so she could put her head on his chest and her arm across his stomach.
“In case I haven’t said it, or I forget to say it… Thank you.” Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t imagine being here alone right now.”
He dragged his fingers up her back, then down again as he pressed his lips to the top of her head, her fruity shampoo assaulting his nostrils in the best way imaginable. “You’re not alone, Ky,” he whispered. And she never would be if he had his way.
She pinched his shirt between her fingers, then released it, repeating the motion a few times before sliding her palm across his stomach and up his chest. “Earlier, when we’d left the funeral, you were going to ask me something. What was it?”
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch. Part of him had hoped she’d forgotten about that. “It was nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Now’s really not the time. Trust me.”
She tilted her head back and gazed up at him, her eyes big and full of longing. Shit. He was so fucked. That innocent, wide-eyed, pleading look was his kryptonite.
“Now’s not the time? But earlier was?”
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have brought it up then, either.” In fact, he couldn’t come up with a single reason why he’d even opened his mouth.
“C’mon, just tell me.” She eased her hand up under his shirt, her fingers trailing over his bare skin.
His stomach hollowed, punching the air from his lungs. He swallowed hard and then sucked in a sharp breath.
“Please?” she whispered.
Between the way she was looking at him and the feel of her hands on his body, there was no denying her. She had him pinned in place, unable to move or think—or remember why this whole situation was a bad idea. Each brush of her fingers across his belly button, each tease of her hand moving lower had his cock instantly hard and throbbing. He could lay her down on the couch, remove her clothes, kiss every beautiful inch of her body, and then take the one thing she’d never given to anyone else. He could see it so clearly in his mind, the way she’d arch into him, look at him, the way her face would contort with pleasure. He could feel every touch and kiss, hear every moan and cry for more. God, it would be so easy. So satisfying.
And so goddamned wrong.
Virginity aside, she was grieving the loss of her grandmother, and he was sitting there thinking about fucking her. What the hell was wrong with him? He removed her hand from under his shirt and slid to the other end of the couch. She sat up, blinking at him like she couldn’t believe what he’d just done. He couldn’t believe it, either.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
