“Oh.” My back straightens, and I think on it for a minute. Is that such bad news? He might think so. He wants me gone, I’m sure.
“But I think we can whip up something good for breakfast. Read some more. If you want, I mean. I know it’s a little boring, but?—”
“I don’t think it’s boring at all.”
His tongue rolls over the side of his teeth while he studies me. I raise my eyebrows and lift the corner of my mouth inreassurance while he shucks off his coat, never breaking eye contact in the process.
“Alright. Well, I got a guy coming first thing in the morning to get your car as long as there isn’t more snow overnight.”
My fingers curl tighter around my warm mug. “I’m very grateful that you’re letting me stay here. Thank you.”
He looks down, but nods.
“Oh, I raided your pantry a little bit and made some coffee. Hope that’s okay. There’s plenty left.” I point to the pot next to the sink. “If you need a little warming up.”
He drags a hand over the side of his slightly reddened face. His palm easily blocks out his entire cheek and jaw. Who has hands that big?
I silently kick myself for mentally running through a list of other ways I could help him warm up.
He’s forced to be here with me, and probably can’t wait for me to leave. And yet all I can do is picture him with nothing but that fucking hat on.
My delusional thoughts continue to reign supreme as soon as he loosens the top button of his thermal shirt and then lightly tugs at the collar.
Despite his size, his movements are deft. He’d know exactly how to touch a woman. I just know it.
I clear my throat and shakily stand to walk toward my pile of suitcases. “I’m just going to brush my teeth and change my clothes.”
It’s oddly erotic getting naked and changing in his room. He can’t see me, but I can feel him in this space. For a moment, I lay flat on my stomach, stretched over his bed with my face in the comforter.
If only he were rude, stupid, or repulsively ugly.ThatI could handle. I’d have no trouble sharing space if that were the case.
But he’s none of those things, and as soon as I start picturing him again, I let out a groan that is thankfully muffled by the comforter.
He’s notthathot, I try to convince myself.
It doesn’t work. Heisthat hot, and there’s no sense in denying it.
The sigh that leaves my body is a combination of frustration and rage.
After another minute of pouting on his bed, I finally admit to myself that I can’t shake the idea of learning everything I can about this man. If I could stop the urge in order to feel less deranged, I would. But it’s inescapable.
God. Dramatic, much?
Fully aware of the fact that my horny pity party has gone on far too long, I pull myself to a respectable standing position again and roll my shoulders back.
I know I should come up with something more level-headed to think about. But throwing caution to the wind and begging him to defile me while I’m here and he has the chance is really all I can come up with.
I’m getting antsy after eating my weight in roast and potatoes, taking two restless naps, and periodically reading the day away. My cognitive ability to not flirt with Ledger is threatening to disappear as a result, and I’m about to just come out with it—explaining that we have nothing better to do than makeout. So, like, why aren’t we kissing?
Thankfully, he breaks the silence for me, and I can tamp down my stupid notions. I perk up as soon as I register his question.
“Where are you from?” he asks.
“Everywhere. Nowhere. Why?”
“I don’t know, I was just thinking about it,” he admits. “I’m going to need more context than that, though.”
I twist my expression, trying to come up with an answer. “My mom is a pilot, and my dad is a journalist. They homeschooled me, and we never stayed in one place too long. I don’t really come from anywhere in particular, honestly. My grandparents on my mom’s side live in Colorado, not far from here. I was born there, so I guess that counts ashome. We spent most of our downtime there between longer trips too.”
