Page 126 of Just for the Plot

No, keep it together.

Oh fuck…oh fuck…what do I say to him?

Stop it. He’s your friend. Nothing has changed.

But we humped!

Deep breaths, you’re fine.

Like I said, you can do this.

Should I be concerned that I’m having a full-on mental breakdown conversation with myself?

Honestly, not enough time to even go there.

On a deep breath and shaky legs, I open the door to my apartment, Bennett’s addicting scent assaulting my senses right before he steps in, closing the space between us and pulling me into a hug.

And that’s all it takes for everything to feel normal.

I wrap my arms around him, press my cheek to his chest, and let him just hold me like he’s done so many times in the past.

The unknown of what today would bring made me feel nutty inside, like I was losing my mind, but right now, in his arms, it all feels normal. Like nothing happened at all and it’s just two friends hanging out together.

When he pulls away, he smirks down at me, his handsome face shadowed under the brim of his hat. “Where are the cupcakes?”

I gasp and push away. “Nowhere.”

“Liar.” The glint in his eyes is so playful that once again, he eases the tension that I was creating.

He goes into my kitchen, finding the box on the counter. He flips open the lid, only to gasp when he sees nothing is in there.

“What the hell? Why would you keep the box if the cupcakes are gone?”

“I don’t know, to be mean?” I say on a wince.

“That was fucking mean.” He sets his backpack on the counter—which is new for him—and pulls out his phone. He starts typing away and I lean over his shoulder to see what he’s doing, but he blocks me out.

“What are you doing? Calling the police to arrest me?”

“If anyone is going to put you in handcuffs, it’s me,” he says, shocking me just as he looks up and winks, and then goes back to typing on his phone.

I swallow the lump of desire forming in my throat from the very idea of being handcuffed by him.

“There,” he says, putting his phone in his pocket.

“Did you order more cupcakes?”

“I did. And if you’re a good girl, I’ll share.” The way he said “good girl” an octave lower, I swear I felt a chill race up my spine. He hops up on my counter and grips the edge, flexing his triceps, as well as the strength in his thick forearms.

Jesus, Bower, stop checking him out.

What is wrong with you?

“So.” He twists his hat around, facing it backward so I can see his beautiful eyes better, a brilliant shade of blue that’s so striking, you can get lost in them in seconds. You’re never ready for it, but when you do get lost, it’s temptation right in front of you.

But when you’re ready for the intensity of the color, it’s hard not toget lost in it, to want to explore the depths of it and make a road map to his very soul…

“Are you okay?” he asks, snapping me out of it.