Page 70 of Screwed
She grinned.
“Is it burning?”
“Well, no.” She looked around. “Have I ever told you that I like your place?”
“Not sure.” She’d been there before, of course, lots of times with Beau in the few years since he’d bought this townhouse.
“I love the feel of it. All the trees and shrubs outside, the big windows… It’s cozy.”
“It’s pretty small and ordinary compared to your mansion.”
“You could afford something bigger, with all the money you and Beau are raking in.”
He shrugged. “I don’t need anything bigger. This place has three bedrooms, more than I need. Ginnie stays with Mama when she comes home. I don’t need a mansion.”
“Yeah, my house is way too huge. And your place feels comfortable.”
They ended up watching another episode ofDaredevilas they ate pizza, then Cash devoured a bunch of cookie shots. “Damn, these are good. Do you ever have anything that doesn’t turn out?”
“No.” Then she laughed. “Okay, a few times. But usually for me, ‘not turning out’ just means it doesn’t look perfect and still tastes okay.”
“I’ll gladly take any of your rejects. One more episode?”
One more turned into two. They sat next to each other on the couch, somehow ending up closer. When Callie’s bare arm brushed his, every hair on his body stood on end with the electricity of it. Her hip bumped his when she leaned forward to pick up her beer and heat surged to his groin. He wanted to pull her onto his lap, slide his hands up under her shirt, and kiss her into next week.
Distracted from the TV show, he studied her smooth legs, her bare feet propped on his coffee table, her toenails now painted soft pink. He watched her toes curl, and glanced sideways to see her eyes widen at a particularly dramatic moment in the show. “I can’t believe he did that,” she said.
Yeah, whatever. He needed to focus on the show and not be aware of Callie’s every breath and change of position.
Fuuuuuck.
Easier said than done. Now distracted by her legs, he let his gaze roam over smooth thighs and calves, wishing he could touch them. Wishing he could wrangle her out of those shorts and under him on the couch with those slender ankles over his shoulders. His dick lengthened and thickened, and he shifted on the couch.
She glanced at him, eyebrows raised as if she knew he was hurting for her, the corners of her mouth lifting. “You okay?”
Tension snapped between them, and he knew without a doubt she was as aware of him as he was of her. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Sure.”
Jesus, how was he supposed to admit he was turned on just by sitting beside her on the couch and looking at her bare legs?
The show ended and Callie groaned. “Damn. It’s nearly eleven. I don’t want to stop watching, but I’d better get home.”
Hell. That made him want to weep with frustration, his erection painful. He turned to her, still hopeful that maybe she’d decide to jump him now that the show was over. But no…she stood.
Then she stretched, which made her T-shirt lift up and reveal a strip of skin just above the low-rise waist of her shorts. Cash’s mouth watered with the urge to press his mouth right there on her firm stomach. He swallowed, his dick aching, his hands itching to touch.Hands off. Hands off.
“Thanks for the cookies,” he managed to say in a calm tone as he stood, too.
“You’re welcome.” She moved to pick up her purse and car keys, pausing near the door. “I guess I’ll see you next weekend. At your mom’s party.”
“Yeah. I’ll talk to you before then. We’ll figure out a plan.”
“Sounds good.”
They eyed each other for a long, wordless moment, heat expanding around them. He knew they were thinking the same thing—they both wanted more. But they were uncertain of exactly what their relationship now was.
Finally, Callie broke the silence. “Good night, Cash.”
“Night, darlin’.”
