Oh wait. Maybe he’s just upset about his father and all the familystuff. This is just his way of asking me to spend time with him. Probably so he can talk out his feelings or let me distract him with my nonsense. That makes sense.
However, the look on his face says otherwise. Like he wants my company for more than a shoulder or an open ear. I’m so confused.
Pull your big girl panties up, Lila. There’s one way to find out what he needs from you.
Actually, there are two. I could ask him. The problem with that approach is that it leaves me exposed to ridicule if I’ve misread this entire situation. So I’ll go with the other option.
Rising to my tiptoes, I open my arms for an embrace. “Sounds like you need a hug. I’m good at those.” Without giving him time to react, I pull him gently toward me.
Almost instantly, he folds himself around my frame, soaking up my offered solace. With both hands surrounding me now, he squeezes me tightly and burrows his face into my neck.
Ah. So it was comfort he needed. Not me or my body—well, certainly not in the way I thought. This makes much more sense.
I rub small circles on his upper back as we cling together. His breathing evens out, while I struggle to control mine. Last thing he needs when he’s working through his grief is me panting in his ear like a big fat Pug.
My eyes shoot wide open as one of his hands drifts from my waist, heading lower.
Lower yet.
And even lower.
Allthe way until his hand rests under the large curve of my butt.And then he grabs it.Not gently. Not a graze or a pulse. Not a tap.
This is a point-making squeeze.
He drives home his intentions by whispering directly into my ear. “Cookie, I want a lot more from you than a hug. Am I not being clear?”
My core absolutely floods, and heat spreads through me. “Message received.”
Pulling away from my ear, he looks me dead in the eyes. “This isn’t about grief or me just wanting an escape from pain. It’s nothing like that. This is me, wanting you for so damn long, and finally giving in. I don’t want to fight it anymore.”
“You-you-you’ve wanted me?” I crick my head to the side, nose wrinkled. “Me? Lila?”
His grin turns lascivious. “Painfully. Desperately. Sweet Lila Kent.”
My thoughts are jumbled with arousal and doubt, and some of that shines through my paltry excuse for a reply. “Since when?”
“Since I got home from college. That’s why I was always waiting up when you and Kenzie would get home. Stealing time with you. Staging ourchance meetingsin the hallway. Walking around with no shirt, like I was putting on a show for you. Flexing my muscles like a prick when I reached for something near you. None of that tipped you off?”
“Well, I assumed you enjoyed teasing me. Or needed an ego boost.”
“I’m not an asshole.” His eyes narrow to seductive slits. “And you weren’t innocent either. With those low-cut tops you wore all the time, and yourfuck meeyes.” He rounds his lips, exhaling pointedly. “You looked at me like you wanted to eat me up. You knew what you were doing.”
I tuck my lips into my mouth to stop from admitting how right he is. I did all those things and more. Not because it was agame of cat and mouse, but because when I looked at him, Ididwant to devour him. No comment about the increasing cleavage.
“Reed, since you’re feeling open about the past, there’s something I always found odd from back then.”
“What?”
“All those times we were on the couch, deep in conversation... what was with your balls?”
His eyes bulge, and he chokes back a laugh.
Snickering to myself, I clarify, “That came out wrong. I meant the balls you were always tossing in the air. Basketballs, baseballs, volleyballs. I thought you had rampant hyperactivity or were training for a sports career.”
His laughter gradually subsides. “Truth?”
“Yes.”
