The smile I’ve been fighting finally defeats me, overtaking my mouth. But it fades quickly when I realize her face isn’t merely flush as a side effect of being startled. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and her nose is pink and puffy. Her face is coated in a sheen of moisture.
“Cookie, have you been crying? What’s wrong?”
Her chin raises, giving her that sultry hint of defiance that always draws me in. “It’s nothing.”
“Liar.”
She purses her lips. “The birds are missing.”
Despite the nonsense words—which I’m accustomed to—her delivery borders on genuine. But I wasn’t born yesterday. “Fine. I’ll let you win this time.”
With a dramatic huff, she rolls her pretty brown eyes and brushes past me, heading straight to the water pitcher still resting in the sink. “Did you ever get that cyber truck you wanted so badly?”
Although that comment is begging for a sarcastic response, I don’t respond to her distraction technique. I’m too hell-bent on cracking this case. Where was she, and what upset her? In other words, whose ass do I need to kick?
While she fills her water bottle, I take the opportunity to study her closer, noticing her workout attire for the first time. A baggy graphic tee hanging over skintight black shorts. Sadly, the shirt hides her tempting ass. Her hair is in a ponytail with wispy strands escaping the tie and clinging to her damp neck. Not only does she look like she’s been crying, but she’s also covered in perspiration.
Did she go for a run without her phone and water bottle?
Unlikely.
And then why the tears?
She screws on the lid to her water bottle and takes a swig. I force my eyes shut so I don’t watch her lips caress the edge of the lid. I’ll never be able to focus on what I came to do tonight if I keep getting swept up in memories of what those lips can do.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I’ve got this.
When I open my eyes, she sets the water on the counter. I’m about to press her again for her whereabouts, but she steals the thoughts from my mind with a simple gesture.
And I do meansimple.
She merely closes her eyes and reaches for her ponytail. The movement is mundane and innocent. Yet it captivates me as if she’s doing a striptease.
Her glossy brown hair falls to her shoulders when she removes the hair tie. Her head flops backward, and she utters a moan tinged with relief.
I’m unable to tear my eyes away from her as she forks her fingers through her tresses and massages her scalp. Her hair has a slight bounce that it normally doesn’t have. Perhaps the waves are because she’s had it tied up.
My hands itch to run through it to see if it’s as soft as I remember from five years ago. I wonder if I offered to take over for her if she’d let me.
She slips one hand through the circular hair band, snapping it to her wrist, then grabs her purple water bottle again. Adorable pink blotches speckle her cheeks and neck from being out in the late-day sun.
No longer staring at her hair, my focus is locked on the delicate way her jaw and throat move as she gulps down her water.
What I wouldn’t give to run my mouth along the curve of her neck and press her body against mine. I don’t even give a fuck that she’s perspiring from whatever she was doing this afternoon. In fact, I suspect I’d enjoy it even more. Who doesn’t love a little salt with their sweets?
Must. Get. A. Fucking. Grip.
If I don’t force my eyes away soon, she’ll catch me staring at her like a perv. No doubt she’ll have something snarky to say about it. And that’ll make me want her even more.
After lowering the now-empty bottle to her kitchen counter with a thud, she arches a brow at me. “This is becoming a habit.”
Please don’t refill the bottle. I can’t take any more torture.
This woman has me reacting to her drinking water like it’s hardcore porn. As much as I want her to stay hydrated, I also need her to cease drinking.
“What’s becoming a habit?”Fortunately, my wordsdon’tcome out like I have a speech impediment, despite the obscene amount of drool pooling in my mouth. I’ll count that as a win.
