“Hmm,” she said, humming under her breath and still swaying to the music. She was so beautiful like this—all relaxed and loose without the stresses of the day wearing her down and stealing her gorgeous glow.
“Let’s get you home, yeah?”
“Duh, big guy. I can always count on you. You’re the only one who’s a hundred percent honest with me.”
Well, that took a left turn and piqued my interest.
I raised an eyebrow, and she smiled as I passed my credit card to the bartender to settle the bill.
“You only want sex.”
That makes me sound like a sleazeball.
“And that’s fine because we work best as friends, and you’re the best I’ve ever had.”
Really, Em?
“I just wish I could find someone who was the total package, you know?” She laid her head on the bar and sighed as I scratched my jaw before scribbling my name on the receipt.
“Nice to know you’re only using me for my body,” I said, smiling so she wouldn’t see how much that comment stung.
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. The perfect guy for me is out there somewhere, and I’ve decided to let something else take the reins.”
“Emma, baby,” I purred, watching her eyes dilate and her teeth sink into her plump bottom lip. “I could be anything you need. All you have to do is ask.”
She rolled her eyes and sat up, popping me on the shoulder before smiling. “I know, but I’d never ask you to be someone you aren’t. You gave your mom a hard time last week when she asked you to wear khakis to her birthday party. I’ll not have you resenting me before the first formal event for the Academy even finishes.”
I shrugged, clasping her hand and pulling her away from the sticky countertop.
“See? You agree. I’ll find someone one of these days. The supercomputer will rescue me from my singleness.”
I tugged her close, running my nose along the smooth arch of her neck. “Whatever you say, pretty girl. Now, could you tell me more about me being the best you’ve ever had?”
I tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned closer to kiss her pulse point.
“You would only hear that. Naughty, naughty.” She giggled, wagging her finger at me before squeezing my hand. “I’m not begrudging you for using your dick as a compass. At least you know what you want.”
Now I’m confused as fuck.
Her large green eyes were so open and inviting, all I could do was lean into her orbit and breathe her in, glad to be rid of thedouche who had his paws all over her. We’d never be anything more than this—and that was fine.
This is enough.
Chapter 6
Iwas slowly draggedinto consciousness as bright spots danced behind my eyelids and noises assaulted my senses. A constricting weight settled on my chest, vibrating as I breathed, and someone outside thought using a chainsaw was an appropriate activity for a Saturday morning. Didn’t HOAs have rules against this shit?
Groaning, I used my elbows to sit up, only for the pressure to mount on my chest. When I opened my eyes, blinking several times to get used to the dim morning light, the pressure stopped its insistent vibrating, and I came face to face with Emma’s cat. The white, long-haired furball with blue eyes and an ancestry that could be traced back beyond mine stared, slow blinking like my mere presence annoyed her.
I flexed my stomach muscles, and the purebred Turkish-something-or-other tilted her head before stretching, digging her claws into my shirt, then turning around to give me a close-up view of her butthole. I rolled my eyes as she jumped off the bed and pranced to the door as I rubbed one hand over my face to scratch my day-old scruff.
Emma fell asleep within five minutes of us getting here last night, wrapping her lithe little body around me and burying her head into my chest—but sleep eluded me. I stayed as still as I could so I wouldn’t disturb her, but my brain switched between counting sheep and remembering every bad decision I’d made since sixth grade. It was embarrassing how many I thought of before crashing into a fitful sleep.
I dug a knuckle into my eye and glanced at the slit between her curtains before slowly swinging my feet over the edge of the bed so I could sneak out of the room. Emma needed the sleep, but I knew once my eyes were open, there wasn’t a chance I’d be able to doze back off.
Fifteen minutes later, I was showered and digging around in her fridge for something other than American cheese. My breakfast skills were well above par, but nothing ruined scrambled eggs and crispy bacon more than processed cheese squares wrapped in plastic.
Minerva—whose name sounded more like a Scottish spinster than a Greek goddess—watched me from her pink cat bed inthe corner of the kitchen as I found a half-eaten block of sharp cheddar behind a head of broccoli.
