Page 37 of Down Knot Out
“You can stay,” Chloe says, the words so simple for the impact they have on me. “So long as you behave.”
Relief floods my system. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
“You’d better be.” She stretches, arms reaching toward the ceiling, and her shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of skin at her midriff.
My cock twitches at the sight, behaving already proving to be a challenge.
I need a distraction from the sudden ache straining my zipper. “We should probably figure out dinner.”
“Let me grab the menus.” Chloe swings her legs off the sofa and pads to the kitchen.
She bounces back with them clutched in her hands and plops onto the cushion beside me. “Any preferences?”
“I’m open to anything,” I say, and mean it in ways that extend beyond food.
She pulls out several options, spreading them on the counter. “Thai? Indian? Italian? We also have a decent pizza place nearby.”
I scan the offerings. “What about Indian? That’s another one that Holden doesn’t cook often, and I love naan.”
She finds the menu. “Good choice. I haven’t had Indian in forever. I wonder if they’ll deliver chai?”
“You already power napped,” I caution. “Don’t add caffeine, or you’ll never sleep tonight.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
My heart melts. “Sure, keep lying to yourself.”
She changes the subject instead. “The lamb vindaloo here is excellent. Do you want to split a garlic naan?”
“Sounds good.” With her pheromones settling, so does my response, and I toss the offensive pillow off to the side so she can’t wedge it between us again.
Content with what we have now, I lean back asshe calls in the order. Her voice shifts when she speaks to the restaurant employee, raising a touch and becoming more formal. I catalog this new detail about her, adding it to my mental collection.
With dinner ordered, Chloe pulls up another movie on her streaming service, another one with enough action to keep us entertained but not so engaging that we can’t talk through it. The familiar rhythm of an evening spent together settles around us.
As the opening credits roll, Chloe tucks her feet beneath her, angling her body toward mine, and she doesn’t comment about the missing pillow.
“So… How did you and Nathaniel become friends in university? He’s so…” She waves her hand, searching for the right word.
“Nathaniel?” I supply with a grin.
“Exactly! I mean, I’m falling for him, but he was a tough nut to crack at the beginning, and you’re…” She scans my face, and heat creeps up my neck.
“I’m what?” I prompt when she doesn’t continue.
She shrugs. “Different. Sociable.”
I settle deeper into the sofa. “We met at some of the parties my parents dragged me to.”
She shudders. “Don’t miss those.”
“Yeah, me, either.” I acknowledge. “But we weren’t close. Then, freshman year, we ended up in several of the same classes. Business fundamentals, economics, that sort of thing.”
Her lips twitch. “Riveting.”
“Oh, absolutely. Edge-of-your-seat stuff.” I match her sarcasm. “But we got paired for a project, and I discovered that beneath all that starch and propriety, Nathaniel has a wicked sense of humor. Dry, but lethal.”
She hums with surprise. “Really?”
