“Are you coming in or what?”
Right.I should say something. I nodded, breathless and feeling my entire body blush with what I wanted to do to his stomach. I wasn’t an overtly sex-crazed person. It was medium the few times I’d had it, but right now, I wanted tobiteinto his skin and taste him. I floated, because I was totally having an out-of-body experience, into his apartment, and he shut the door.
“What’s up?” he asked, all casual, like my insides weren’t roaring with lust.
“You’re in a towel.”
“Yeah, you were banging like wild on my door.” His lip quirked up on the side for a second, and I curled my toes into my Birkenstocks.
“Because I was mad.” I looked at his TV, white walls, one couch.
“Why?” He stepped closer.
“Reasons.” I swallowed hard and avoided staring at him directly. It was like looking into the sun, only if the sun was your secret crush for three years and your dream star.
“Oh. Right. Sure. Well, I’m sorry forreasons.”
I snapped my gaze to him, unsure if that was a joke. It was. He beamed, full-on, andoh baby.Yup. Sun. I was a little planet orbiting him, pulling toward him. “Jesus, put that away.” I covered my eyes and stepped back.
“Put what?”
“Your smile.”
“What?”
I cracked an inch between my fingers and found him grinning even more at me. “Stop. Your smile is too much.”
“Are you saying you like it?”
“It is very clear that’s what I’m saying. Now put on a goddamn shirt so I can yell at you properly.”
Cal laughed. Cal Holt, serious grumpy-ass Cal, laughed. The sound was magical. Could probably solve world hunger with it.
“Could you yell at me improperly?”
I picked up a couch pillow and threw it at his face. “Shirt. Now. Or I’ll get pissier.”
“Sorry my chest is so distracting to you,friend.”
I refused to take the bait and felt my way toward the couch, never opening my eyes. It was for self-protection, and I didn’t care if he realized I thought he was hot. He had eyes and a mirror and lived in a gym. Of course, he knew how he physically looked. It would be absurd if he didn’t have self-awareness. Scientifically, he was attractive.
Yeah, go with that one.
After a minute, he cleared his throat, and I chanced a peek. He wore loose gray shorts and a Central State shirt. Much better. He sat on the other end of the couch, feet away from me.
I relaxed and stood up, ready to complete my mission. “How dare you get me those spices! And gorgeous watering can! And soil!”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re not!” I pointed a finger at him, hating the way his lips curved. “Stop laughing at me.”
“Sorry. You’re kinda cute when you’re trying to be angry.”
He thinks I’m cute. HE THINKS I’M CUTE.My skin flushed, and my heart beat twice as fast. It felt like my soul floated in the air for a second.
Focus.
“I’m not trying to be angry. I am. I don’t havemoneyproblems. You misheard. I don’t need a charity gift or a pity present or anything.”
