I knew why.
Yet I listened to John Mason say: “Your best? Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and fuck the prom queen.”
God, I loved The Rock.
“I think that’s what is wrong with the world nowadays. Everyone is so worried about offending someone that you never truly get the real person. You get this half a man that tells you what he thinks you want to hear. There’re no real relationships anymore.”
“You would rather a man say what he’s truly thinking and not tell you what you want to hear?” he wondered.
I twisted slightly so that I was facing him.
We were both sharing the couch, but his long legs ate up quite a bit more of it than I did.
He was leaning against one arm, and I was leaning against the other.
His long legs were stretched out on the outside, one leg on the coffee table and the other on the couch. One white-socked foot rested by my hip, while the other took up a part of the TV screen in front of me.
I, on the other hand, was smushed into the couch cushions, cocooned between the overstuffed fabric and his body.
We were both sharing the same blanket, and his body heat was keeping me warm and toasty.
My belly hadn’t stopped fluttering with butterflies since he’d sat down.
It’d only gotten worse the more comfortable he got. The more he loosened up, the more he let himself touch me.
Innocent touching, yes. But touching nonetheless.
I was a hot mess, and Romeo had no freakin’ idea.
Unfortunately, the touching was about to come to an end, because I had to pee. I’d been holding it for over thirty minutes now, but if I didn’t go, I’d be chancing fate.
“Press pause,” I ordered as I dug myself out of my cocoon of blankets. “I have to use the bathroom.”
Before he could move, I crawled over his long legs—my, did he have some great muscle tone—and stood up.
As I did, my shirt rode high, revealing my belly.
My belly and my tattoo.
I tugged it down quickly and hurried to the bathroom, doing my business and washing my hands before coming back.
“Are you hungry yet?” I asked curiously.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again,” he said from his sprawl on the couch.
I moved around the side of the couch and fell back into the nest of blankets.
Only once I was sufficiently back where I wanted to be did I look at him.
He was smiling. “Comfortable?”
“More than,” I murmured. “You can press play now.”
He did, but only after he stared at me for a few more long seconds.
The stare was enough to make me shiver.
Luckily, he turned away right when that shiver tore down my spine.
