Page 51 of The New Guy
“Easy.” He takes it out of my hands and sets it onto the stove. “How’s your hip?”
“I don’t know how to answer that,” I admit. “It’s too tempting to invite you over to work on it.”
Gavin works his jaw while he hangs up the dish towel. “Can’t help you with that decision.”
“Is your sister home later?” I ask.
“Any minute now,” he says.
I lift a hand and put it on his shoulder. With any other man, it would be a meaningless gesture. But between the two of us, it’s practically foreplay. Gavin’s body seems to flush, and his bright eyes lock on mine.
The sexual tension between us is palpable. So I make it worse by sliding my palm up his shoulder to his neck, and then rubbing my thumb across his top lip. “Come over later,” I whisper. “I don’t think ignoring you is working.”
“You said we weren’t doing that,” he says with heated eyes.
“Maybe I lied.”
He leans into my caress. “I’ll knock at eight-thirty. If you answer, I’ll assume you didn’t change your mind. Think about it.”
I drop my hand and take a step back, before I do something impulsive—like push him against the fridge and kiss him stupid. “I’ll be thinking about it, all right. But not the way you mean.”
Then I leave, but I’m already counting down the minutes until eight-thirty.
SEVENTEEN
Gavin
“I won’t wait up,”Reggie whispers from the sofa as I head for the door. Then she giggles.
I leave without answering, because I feel sheepish.
When I’d offered to work on Hudson’s hip, I’d meant it genuinely. But then he escalated things, so there’s no point in pretending that this is a business visit.
Which makes me a fool. He doesn’t want to date me. And I shouldn’t fuck around with a guy I work with. I don’t want to confuse Jordyn, either, so this is a stealth mission.
There are so many reasons why this is a terrible idea. And yet, I’m freshly showered, and there’s a bottle of massage oil in my pocket. The edible kind.
I knock.
His footsteps approach a moment later, and it occurs to me that after an hour or so to think it over, he’s probably changed his mind.
The door opens, and there he is, filling my vision with his big body and thoughtful expression. He’s also freshly showered, in sweats and a soft-looking Henley. And I just want to scale him like a tree. “Hey,” he says.
“Hey. You okay? Maybe this isn’t a great idea.”
“Oh, it’s definitely not.” He takes my arm and steers me into the apartment. He closes the door behind me. And then sets me back against the door.
But he doesn’t kiss me. He tips his forehead against mine, and just looks at me. “I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s a problem. And I am never indecisive.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, even though it’s not really my fault. “I’m sorry you can’t decide whether or not to have some meaningless sex.”
His chuckle is dry. “That’s the problem. I don’t think it would be meaningless enough.”
“Oh.”
Oh. I meet his brown eyes and see trouble in them. And I wonder how much it cost him to say that. “You really are a bit of a mess, Hudson Newgate,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he agrees. Then I get a flicker of a smile before he finally leans in for the kiss. It’s sweet, and a little sad. For a second, anyway. Until I kiss him back, and then his tongue brushes my top lip, and I shiver against his chest.
