Amelia stands and walks back to me. “Sorry I distracted you from yourvery importanttask.” She gets all stuffy for a second, impersonating Wyatt, and it draws one side of my mouth up.
“Don’t be. Seeing your tits has been the highlight of my entire trip back so far, darlin’. Much better than looking under Van Gogh’s hood again.”
“Don’t let her hear that. She’s insecure about the way gravity is affecting her pipes.”
That gets a chuckle out of me, but this pattern of hers, deflecting with humor, it’s familiar in a way that means I know what’s beneath it. She chooses to laugh, to make others laugh, instead of retreat into the loneliness I recognize in her, and that earns her even more respect from me. Just furthers my need to get to peek behind her curtain and see what else makes her tick.
“Probably none of my business, darlin’, but should I be asking how you’re so good at bullshitting?”
“You’re right, Boy Scout. None of your business.” Her blueish green eyes harden into armor, determined to keep me out, watching me laying on her bed, propped on my elbows as I wait for more. After a moment, something in them warms, just alittle. It’s a visible change, her irises going from steely to a state like liquid metal before she opens up.
“But you’ve done me more than your fair share of solids.”
Her hands rest on her low back once more, arms out to her sides, and I try not to get distracted by her chest popping out.
“So I’ll just say it comes with the territory of being on the move. People get nosy.”
She gives me a pointed look and I shoot an unapologetic grin at her.
“They wanna know more than I wanna share.”
One shoulder shrugs softly, and it takes some concentration to not stare at the way her tits move beneath that sweatshirt as she does, now that I can visualize them in perfect clarity, but her words have me captivated right now.
“Had to get good at keeping people out. It’s a lot easier if they don’t realize you’re doing it.”
How matter of fact she is on the subject could be depressing if I let it, but I’m a fellow disciple of theMake the Most Outta Lifehandbook she seems to have taken a few pages out of.
I opt for applying that life philosophy right about now.
“Wanna get shitfaced?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk and into my own bed?” she asks playfully.
“Aw, I won’t make the first move when a woman is drunk,” I tell her.
“When will you make it?” The flint in her voice rolls down my spine, urging me to move in.
Suck in a breath through my teeth because with the knowledge of how insanely perfect her tits are, that look on her face that’s begging for trouble, and this energy that pulses between us I haven’t been able to tune out since that first night I met her, this isn’t the answer I wanna give her.
“’Fraid I’m not going to make one.”
Disappointment drips down her face, pulls into this little pout of a frown that shouldn’t look so good, and I can’t let that stay there. It’d be a crime to ruin a perfect face like hers with something as needless as unhappiness.
“Not because I don’t want to.”
Her face screws up in confusion, but she waits for more.
“It’s complicated.”
“Oh God, tell me you don’t have a partner. Did I flash a taken man?”
Amelia’s palms clap to her face, covering her eyes and forehead as she spins around to give me her back, and actually this might be the first time I’ve gotten a good look at her ass, with no shirt in the way of my view. It’s pulled up with the motion of her arms right now, and that might makemean ass for noticing when she’s clearly distressed, but I can’t help but take in that perfect little round bottom that would look so damn good sliding down on me, reverse cowgirl—shit, my libido is going to get me in trouble again.
My brother might be right about me.
I can’t even have a conversation with this girl without planning all the ways I want to wreck her body.
Amelia continues muttering to herself, “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” pulling me out of my dirty thoughts and onto her spiral.Do I have a partner?
