I’m not a complete dipshit.
“Are you…” She pauses. “No. Never mind.”
“Am I, what?”
She clears her throat. “Jealous.”
“Of Callan? Yeah. ‘Course I am.”
Denny gasps, her hands pressing to my pecs, nails digging in slightly. “No way.”
“Yes way.” My tone’s calmer than the Sargasso Sea. “I don’t like that you let him call you Denny or that you invite him to breakfast. He’s handsome, quirky, and accessible. What’s not to hate? Plus, I don’t like that you focus on him at games, and there’s a bunch more ‘caveman’ shit too, but that’s what it boils down to.”
“I won’t lie and tell you I don’t think he’s cute. Because he is. But we’re just friends.”
“So were we.” I boop her on the nose. “Not much reassurance there, Denny.”
Her snort makes my self-directed derision worth it.
I dip my chin to press a kiss to her lips. “You wouldn’t be my Denny if you weren’t exactly as you are.” It pains me to state this, but I need her to know it, just in case I fuck up and she throws me to the curb. “If you remember nothing else about being with me, then remember that.”
“And what am I?” she whispers, eyes overly big, lips parted.
“Perfect.”
A whimper escapes her and I find a whole lot more of her to grab when she shoves me against the door and devours me.
I let her too.
I savor her kisses.
I worship her back, because that’s what she deserves—everything.
Then, when I know time’s ticking away and we both have shit planned for this morning, I break off the kiss. “You need to stop this because what we have to do is more important than an orgasm.”
“You pissing on me like I’m a tree is more important than an orgasm?” She sniffs. “I know I’m new to them but?—”
I tap her ass. “Less of the backtalk. More of the showering.”
That earns me a harrumph, but she shuffles off, muttering about bossy men who need to give girls orgasms when they ask for one.
I watch her go, oddly disillusioned by that conversation yet filled with hope too.
Another Denny fact I hadn’t picked up on yet? One that told me I sucked as a friend becauseCallanhad probably figured it out by now…
Denny has severe commitment issues.
And coming from a heretofore self-aware manwhore, that’s saying something. Especially when the commitment-phobe was, until very recently, a virgin.
As well as that conversation ended—i.e., all of my limbs intact—it sours any excitement I might feel about Oakwood learning who Denny belongs to.
Because Denny’s mine…
…but for how long?
TWENTY-TWO
TO-FIX LIST
