He interlaced his fingers and settled his steepled fingers against his lips while sliding me a sidelong glance.
Some people traveled with twice as many clothes as they need. Some with an array of makeup cases equipped with colors for any event.
Me… I brought a self-love arsenal that would make a repressed mama’s boy’s ass pucker with just one glimpse. “Don’t be scared, Saint Nick. They’re for me, not you.”
His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “All of them? How many holes you got?”
I laughed. “Some are more accommodating than others and capable of taking on multiples. The female body is rather amazing like that.” I rolled my lips over my teeth to stifle my laugh at the strangled sound coming from the man behind me.
“I’m not getting in that bed with you,” he said with a hint of censure in his tone.
“Suit yourself.”
I grabbed my pajamas and ducked into the bathroom. The fan muffled my giggle while I dragged my jeans down my thighs. I’d bet I’d find him in the same spot when I finished.
Good. I would not be off-balance by myself. Especially since this sharing-a-room thing totally killed my weekend plans to diddle my skittle on every luxury surface imaginable.
I dragged a brush through my hair and threw it up in a messy knot on my head before I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and tossed out my contacts.
A few minutes later and feeling more like me than I had since I arrived, I found Nick leaning back on the couch, a bottle of vodka tipped to his lips. His gaze locked on the garment bag as it rocked back and forth from the force of me whipping the door open.
The first bottle lay empty on the coffee table, and he clutched a third in his other hand.
“Poor Saint Nick. I drove you to drink.”
“If this were any other year, I’d be at the bar right now.”
“So, go. No one’s stopping you.”
“This relationship,” he said making an air quote gesture with his fingers, “Is stopping me. You really want our moms to see me drinking alone?”
I shrugged and peeled back the covers of the bed. “There could be a lot of reasons for you to be there alone. Watching a game. I have a headache. I got my period. Maybe you stuffed me with so much potato there’s no room right now for your eggplant.” With potato fantasies still playing in my brain, I shot him a smirk, my gaze landing on his zipper. “Or maybe you’re more of a baby carrot kind of guy.”
“Judging by the size of the holes you cut out of my pants, shorts, and boxers, you had eggplant fantasies.” His lips curled down in the corners with a sarcastic edge I wasn’t used to seeing on him, but I actually kind of like on account of the expression proved he’s human like the rest of us. “Either way, there’s only one way you’d ever find out and that’s if I lose my mind and decide to smack your smart mouth with it.”
The picture he painted was so out of left field with his personality I doubled over choking on laughter. Tears sprang to my eyes. I slapped my palms against the bed and doubled over with a wheeze.
“The day you smack anyone with your dick is the day I’ll let a dude tell me what to do.” When I finally managed to look up at him and breath again.
A look I’d never seen crossed his face and the last of the laughter died on my lips. Trapped by his heavy gaze, I swallowed the lump in my throat.
Neither of us looked away, but he finally blinked and the tension snapped.
Goddamn potato hallucinations. That’s all this was. It had to be.
“Good to know, Charlie,” he said quietly.
The words hung in the air like a fucking promise, but a promise of what?
“Why don’t you ever go to the bar with us?” he asked as he flopped his head back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling.
“Because Chance can’t handle the fact that I fuck about as often as he does.” Met with silence, I settled under the covers and glanced over to find him staring at me.
Hard.
“What?”
“Do you?” he asked. The muscles in his cheek jumped.
