Page 22 of Better Not Pout
And sex complicates everything.
But…
No, Rosalie, my God. No orgasm is worth the headache that it’ll bring afterward.
I think?
I remind myself of that fact for the hundredth time since the other night at his house, where I sat on his stupid comfy couch, and he looked at me with those bourbon-colored eyes and grabbed my chin, leaning in so close I held my breath like he was about to kiss me.
A very large, very irresponsible part of me wished that he had.
It’s barely 6:00 a.m. when I glance at the clock, hearing the loud knock on my front door. Tossing the blankets off with a groan, I amble over to the front door and swing it open.
For a moment, I just blink.
My brain is now fogged by the six-foot-three, bearded, infuriating, sexy man who’s currently standing at my front door, wearing Carhartt and a smile, holding a large coffee cup from Frosty’s in his hand.
“Mornin’.” His voice is a deep, raspy velvet and not at all helping with my onslaught of sudden horniness in his presence.
When Penny barks behind me, he chuckles. “Mornin’ to you too, Penny girl.” He lifts my favorite red cup between us. “Brought your favorite coffee from Frosty’s.”
I nearly groan as I all but snatch it out of his hands with slight desperation. The only way I’m getting through this day is with caffeine and a prayer. I’ve got to be downstairs for work in the next twenty minutes, and I literally just rolled out of bed to this.
“I’m far too tired to interrogate you about why you’re at my door at 6:00 a.m. with my favorite coffee, so I’ll just take this and say thank you very much.” I moan after taking a sip, letting it fuel my veins. Wait… “You know my coffee order?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I pay attention.”
He. Pays. Attention?To me?
We were in line next to each other, what… twice at Frosty’s, and he memorized my coffee order? I was clearly too focused on the fact that he was stealing the last blueberry muffin from beneath me to notice him paying me any attention.
I try not to fixate on his confession, but it feels improbable when I’m starting to be in crush territory. This isn’t good.
Not at all.
His lip curls up in a small smile as his gaze moves over me, dropping down my body in a slow descent. “Cute.”
Following his gaze, I glance down and quickly realize I’m still in my pajamas, obviously not planning on having visitors. I’ve had this since high school. An old set featuring reindeer that doesn’t cover much at all, now that I’m thinking about it, and a pair of fuzzy slippers.
“Shit. Sorry, um… come in?” My voice comes out unusually high as I nudge the door open wider with my foot. “I’m going to go get changed. I have to be at work in a few minutes anyway. I just… overslept a bit.”
He doesn’t need to know that it was partially his fault that I was up until the wee hours of the night.
Thinking abouthim.Wondering if he was going to kiss me.
Wells moves past me into my apartment, and I shut the door behind him.
Suddenly, it feels small with his massive body inside. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket, and he’s wearing a pair of old, worn light-wash jeans that hug his muscular legs.
Hockey player thighs for suuuure.
“Thank you again for the coffee. But also, what are you doing here? I mean, it’s a very sweet, boyfriendy thing to do, but no one is here to see it.”
He takes a step toward me, then another, still wearing that sexy smirk that makes my stomach flip. “I figured the coffee would lessen the blow that we’re going to have to move this fake date thing up a bit. I got a call from my brother this morning that he’s coming into town early this weekend, and he can’t wait to meet my new girl.”
Shit.
“Like…thisweekend? As in tomorrow?”
