“Nah.” I ran my fingers through my towel-dried hair. Pool water dripped from the ends and goosebumps covered my skin, the night air thirty degrees chillier than the water temperature. But I could be standing butt naked in the Arctic and still deny being cold.
She pulled the comforter tighter around her body and shuddered as if it made her cold just looking at me. “Are you coming to bed now?”
Interesting turn of phrase. “Is that an invitation?”
“It’s your bedroom.”
Which begged the question,Will you be in it? In my bedroom. In my bed. With me inside you. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her that. But I stopped myself. For the first time in my life, I wanted to be the good guy. I wanted to do the right thing. “Go back to bed. I’ll sleep in the spare room.”
Her lips turned down at the corners. Disappointment? Was she hoping I’d stick with the script? I wanted this to be her choice. I wanted her to make her intentions clear. I wanted her to choose me. But not like this. Not when I’d forced her hand by putting her in my bed without her consent.
“Oh. Okay. Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder then back at me. “I can sleep in the other room. You should sleep in your own bed.”
“I’m good. Just stay in my room.” Go ahead, torture the shit out of me by leaving your scent on my sheets and pillows. “Night, Starlet.”
“Goodnight.” She smiled and waved goodbye over her shoulder, dragging my comforter back inside the bedroom. The French doors closed, and I stifled a groan as I walked into the house and turned off the pool lights.
I could have had her tonight. What had possessed me to play Mr. Nice Guy? Fucking idiot.
Chuckling to myself, I dropped my wet trunks in the laundry room and climbed the stairs to the second floor. My footsteps stopped outside my bedroom door. She was sleeping on the other side of it. I was standing in front of the door in nothing but a towel.
Keep walking, asshole. You’re trying to be the good guy, remember? Not my strong suit.
In the midst of my internal debate, the door opened a crack and then it opened wider, spilling moonlight into the hallway. As if she had expected me. Had known all along that I’d be here.
Waiting. Wanting. Ready.
My gaze roamed down her body, her perky tits under the T-shirt, the curve of her hips, her bare legs. Somewhere along the way, she’d ditched the leggings. The hem of her shirt hit the top of her thighs. Modest enough to cover whatever she was wearing underneath but short enough to be distracting. Scarlett was tiny, but she was all legs.
“Hi,” she whispered, biting the corner of her lip.
“Hi,” I said and then we both laughed for no reason.
I planted a hand on the doorframe and leaned in. Close enough to smell her honey and vanilla scent. “What are you doing, Scarlett?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
She licked her lips, her eyes roaming down my bare torso to the towel tied around my hips. That’s right. Just one flick of the wrist and it would be on the floor.
“Are those song lyrics?” Her gaze lowered to the inked words on my ribs:I can’t breathe but I fight while I can fight. “I mean… your tattoo… I always wondered…”
“Eminem. ‘Love The Way You Lie.’ It was my first tattoo.”
She traced the words with her fingertips, her touch featherlight yet it felt like she was branding me. Searing my skin and burrowing under the protective layers.
“Do you still feel like that?” she asked, her voice hushed, her eyes lifting to mine. Her lips parted, and a soft breath escaped them, and it was all I could do not to sink my teeth into that lush lip. “Like you can’t breathe?”
Our eyes were locked, the house so quiet that I knew we must be the only two people awake. It felt like long moments passed before I finally answered. “Sometimes.”
Right now, that wasexactlyhow I felt. My breathing was shallow, and even though we’d barely touched, I was so hard for her it was starting to feel like a sick joke.
Last night, after the gym, Cruz and I had gone for a few beers. I’d run into Waverly who I’d hooked up with a few times in the past. With Waverly, it had always been sex with no strings attached. Which was fucking perfect. She was hot, liked to get dirty, and never overstayed her welcome. Yet what had I done when she offered a quick fuck? I’d said no.
Now I was standing in front of a girl who had given me nothing more than a kiss, who had the potential to complicate my life and fuck with my head, yet I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anyone.
It was only minutes but felt like years that we stood there, staring at each other, locked in a silent battle ofwill we, won’t we. Never in the history of foreplay had anything dragged out so long without a sound or a touch.
I didn’t know who made the first move, but the next thing I knew my hand was tangled in her wild, unruly hair, her palms coasting up my chest, and my mouth collided with hers. I swept my tongue across the seam of her pillow-soft lips and they parted on a sigh to let me in, our tongues exploring the deepest recesses of each other’s mouths like they held the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe.