Page 67 of Just Wait

Jesus.

Am I ovulating?

I’ve heard women can be hyperaware of manly smells when we are.

I force myself to lean back on my forearm as my face heats.

Mal lets my bra strap snap against my shoulder and moves to brush his fingers over my cheek. “I hate this.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, well, I still fucking hate it.” He slowly teases his thumb down, running it over my lower lip.

My skin sizzles as his crystal blue eyes meet mine. He keeps eye contact as his fingers trace my jaw, and it gets hard to breathe.

Malcolm is gorgeous.

Way too hot to be looking at me like he is. His eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief, and whatever trouble he wants to get into, I’m down to join him.

Hell, if he wanted to wrap me in his arms and snuggle me while we fell asleep, I’d jump at the chance.

I’m an affectionate person, but I’ve learned to get by without it.

Having cravings for cuddles and tender caresses is just part of life, right?

Malcolm is so generous with his touches that I bet he would be down for snuggles.

I’d just have to be brave enough to ask…

“So, Lulu, whatcha doing?” Mal finally pulls his hand from my jaw. My skin buzzes with the urge to follow him, but I hold myself back. “Did Kincaid scare you off? He’s a big fucker, but I could probably take him.”

I laugh, and just like that, I’m no longer sullen from the loss of contact.

“Nah, there’s no need for that,” I say, smiling. “We had a run-in with the paparazzi, but he stepped in and made sure they couldn’t get any additional pictures of me. Then he gave me a pep talk about not stressing once the pictures they did get are posted.”

“The paps were still there when we passed through,” Malcolm admits. “They’re one-hundred-percent honed in on you, and I don’t know how to make that stop.”

“It’s okay.” I reach over and squeeze his hand. “It’s not your fault. Kincaid said we just have to ride it out until something more exciting comes along.”

A dazzling smile breaks out on Malcolm’s face, and my heart thumps so loudly I can hear it in my ears.

“That makes it sound like you’re sticking around.” He rolls toward me, and I respond by moving to lie on my back. My hair rests on my notebook, but I ignore it.

Mal plants his hands on either side of my head, leaning over me with his top half. His wavy brown hair falls around his face as he dips toward me.

His mouth is so close that it almost brushes mine.

My nipples tighten.

All the oxygen is gone.

Wait.

Maybe I forgot how to breathe.

“You’re not leaving. Right, baby doll?” he asks, his lips ghosting over mine.

It’s not a kiss.