My voice comes out embarrassingly breathy. “I?—”
But before I can finish my thought, he steps away.
“I’ll grab the plates,” he announces casually.
When I exhale, it comes out shaky and my entire body is humming. The spot where his lips touched my ear is tingling, and I have to grip the counter for support.
Damn him and his big-dick energy.
When I look up, he’s watching me with that infuriating smirk of his. The asshole knowsexactlywhat he’s doing to me.
He hands me the plates. “You good?”
“You’re playing dirty,” I accuse, setting the plates down with more force than necessary.
He pops an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re just making lunch.”
“Right.” I cross my arms over my chest in an attempt to hide the fact that my nipples have pebbled beneath my T-shirt. “And I’m the Queen of England.”
His eyes darken as they drop to my chest, then back to my face. “Okay, then,your Majesty,” he says with a mock bow.
Despite myself, I laugh. “You’re such a dick.”
“Andyou’rejust as beautiful when you frown,” he growls.
TWENTY-EIGHT
ryder
The wayher face flushes makes it almost impossible for me to keep my distance. I want nothing more than to back her up against the counter and remind her exactly what she’s missing, but I have a plan and I need to stick to it.
Mumbling something about getting back to work, she practically flees upstairs with her sandwich. I watch her go, enjoying the view as she takes the steps two at a time.
“Sure.” I manage to keep my voice casual, even though every cell in my body is screaming to follow her up those stairs.
As soon as she disappears, I let out a long breath and adjust myself in my jeans. Fuck. This is going to be harder than I thought.
The plan was to make her want me so badly she’d break her own rule, but I didn’t account for how fucking hard it would be on me, too.
When she bent over the counter to grab the mayo, my cock instantly went hard, straining painfully against my zipper.
Grabbing my plate, I grab a beer from the fridge, head to the living room and collapse onto the couch.
Goonie stares down at me from his perch on the bookcase.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I grunt.
He just keeps staring at me, swishing his tail back and forth. Then he shifts and I watch out of the corner of my eye as he paws at a stack of paperbacks on the shelf.
“Don’t even think about it, pudge.”
“Chirrup.”
Down go the books.
“Jesus. No wonder she calls you troublemaker.”
I push up from the couch, pick up the books and set them back on the shelf, then grab Goonie and set him on the floor.
