Page 89 of Unforgettable
“I need a drink. Got any beer?” I darted out of her room before she could answer and invaded her small fridge to find only water.
As long as it was cold, I didn’t care. I couldn’t get the cap off fast enough or the cold liquid down my throat.
Tell the truth. Tell her what you’re feeling.
Her footsteps gave her away. “Ryker?” Her angelic tone sent a wave of goose bumps along my arms.
Pivoting on my heel, I poured water down my throat, only to spit it out when my gaze rounded on her.
Her ball-squeezing green eyes were riveted on me as if I were some type of lunatic.
I seriously was one nut shy of going to a mental health facility. Maybe then I could get help for my drinking, my mourning, and whatever it was that I was feeling for Haven, which I was afraid to say aloud.
Her chest rose and fell as she stood before me.
“I need to go.” I had to get the fuck out of the dorm. I felt like I was standing in one of those tiny houses on that HGTV program. How could anyone live in such a minuscule space was beyond me.
Mom had teased that she wouldn’t mind living in one when she and Dad retired. Dad’s response had been “not in my lifetime.” He’d been a big dude like me, so I could relate.
Haven batted her long lashes, and another tear cascaded down her face. “We need to talk.”
No, my lady, we need to fuck.That was the only exercise that was going to dust away the motes in my brain.
She erased the distance between us, and her soft fingers went around my wrists, or tried to anyway. “Come here.”
I went with her over to the couch.
“Have a seat,” she purred.
I loved that light and airy sound out of her.
She eased her gorgeous butt onto the coffee table and, with her hands, opened my legs, much like I’d done to her when she’d been at my house.
Slide your hands up my thighs. Please. Please.Maybe then I would be able to get my tongue moving.
My wish wasn’t granted. But she did place her palms on my knees.
Screw that.I gripped her hips and lifted her until she was straddling me.
She giggled. “You seem to have that move down pat, big guy.”
“I like when you call me big guy.” I waggled my eyebrows, staring into the glimmering emeralds that I wanted to gaze into for the rest of my life.
Motherfucker.
She touched my cheek then forehead. “You’re sweating.”
I grabbed her ass. “You’re doing things to me that are kind of freaking me the fuck out.”
“Like?”
Being in my head. Being in my heart. Being in my fucking soul.
“I came here tonight to ask you to dinner,” I said.
“A date?”
I shrugged. “A friend taking another friend out. Besides, we both need to eat.”
