Page 106 of Sweet Caroline
I let go of her hair, brushing it back from her cheeks.
“Is that right?” she asks, arching a brow.
I cradle her face in my palms. “Trust me, I’m an expert procrastinator.”
“That another one of your ADHD things?”
“Yup. And I know we can find something better to do than fuckingcleaning.”
“Well, then,” she starts, playing with the small buttons on my Henley, “you’ll have to tempt me away with something better than a clean kitchen.”
“Pffft,” I huff immediately, sweeping my thumb over her cheek. “Easy.”
But my teasing tone is a bluff, because what I truly want to offer her is anything but easy. The easy version of me isn’t the one standing in front of her. Not yet. Instead, I focus on what Icangive her. Leaning in close, I slip my fingers into the hair at her nape and grip tight, a slow smile spreading over my face when she gasps.
“How ’bout I make you come so hard you can’trememberthe kitchen.” I let go and back away, sliding my hands down her arms until I finally let go of her fingers, one cocky eyebrow raised.
Yeah. Proud of that one.
Borderline cheesy but still pretty hot—and the look on her face is priceless.
I hold her gaze as I continue to walk backward, motioning for her to follow me. But the universe humbles me almost immediately, because I clip the sharp corner of the countertop. “Ah!” I buckle slightly and grab my hip as the impact zings up to my brain.
That’s gonna leave a mark.
“Shoot. You okay?”
Rubbing my hip to dissipate the pain, I play it off like the Black Knight inMonty Python and the Holy Grail. “It’s just a fleshwound.”
“Alright, smooth operator,” she deadpans, walking toward me with her lips twisting in obvious amusement.
I throw her a flirty smirk, still not turning around as I continue to back up because Inever fucking learn. “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t watching where I was going because I was so”—I whip out the finger guns—“distracted by your beauty?”
“Riiiiight.” She lifts her chin, clearly not convinced, and guides me to turn around and walk forward to her room. “It’s too bad I wasn’t filming that, actually, or your little yelp could’ve been the next viral mashup.”
“Little yelp?” I pull an over-the-top, incredulous face as we push through her bedroom door. “What am I, a chihuahua?” I drop my voice deep. “You meangreat big manlyguffaw!” With a growl, I spin to pick her up, booming cartoonish and increasingly ridiculous sounds of surprise between the kisses I pepper over her face and neck.
“Miles!” she pants between peals of laughter, wriggling in my arms and slapping at my shoulders. “Put me down!”
I toss her onto the bed and crawl over her.
Her eyes catch on the inside of my left arm, and she does a double take. “Wait, wait?—”
“What?”
“Your tattoo…” She scrambles to sit up, pushing me back so she can grab my arm and shove my T-shirt sleeve out of the way to get a better look. “Is this aham? How have I not noticed it before?”
“Uh, I dunno.” It’s small and blends in pretty well with the rest of the ink covering my shoulder and upper arm; I’m not surprised she missed it. I raise a brow. “Maybe, when I’ve had my clothes off, you’ve been a little distracted?”
“Yeah, but- but—” she sputters, searching my face. “You have ahamtattoo.”
“I do.” I grin at the wonder in her eyes. “For my Grandpa. Remember? He used to call me a?—”
“Oh my God!” she laugh-groans, pulling me by the neck until we both topple back down to the bed. “You’re killing me here.”
“What?” I ask through a chuckle, though it’s muffled by the way she’s smushing my cheeks together.
“You have no business being this adorkableandsexy at the same time.”
