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But thankfully it seems like neither of them detects my savage intent, though Lola’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second. So maybe she does sense something, but not the entire significance of it.
“You’ve got more chance of persuading penguins to fly,” she says, with that streak of fieriness in her tone. “I’m sorry, Mr. Larson, but I think I’d just seize up.”
Oh, you’d seize up, I want to say.
She’d seize up when I drive inside of her and she’s so stunned for a moment that she’s not sure she can take me, and then everything in her would relax and pleasure would surge around her body.
She’d gasp and pulse and grind up and down me, begging for more, more, more.
“We’ll see,” I say, wondering if I imagine the light that fires in her eyes.
I let them fall into their own conversation about books, focus on the road, and try not to focus on this maelstrom that has opened up inside of me.
If I was a superstitious man, maybe I’d think that Cupid has gotten involved here.
A man isn’t supposed to need a woman like this, so vitally, so hungrily, just by looking at her once.
A man isn’t supposed to know that he’s going to put babies in her one day, especially when she’s my daughter’s best friend.
Yet here I am, on the edge of self-control, struggling to keep myself sane in her presence.
I forcibly remind myself that Valentine’s day is when Kayley’s mother ran out on us.
There, that’s reason enough not to follow this deranged train of thought.
I need to calm down.
I need to work out some of this tension coursing through me.
I need to do the impossible—stop fantasizing about Lola and all the ways I could make her shiver for me.
Chapter Three
Lola
I lie on a plush guest bed, the covers pulled up around my chin.
I try not to let myself think about the drive up to the Larson’s grand house, the long driveway, and the fountain in the center, like something out of a reality TV show. I try not to think about the way Liam led me through the long hallways – suits of armor, classical paintings, swords, and weaponry watching me as I passed – and opening the door for me, gesturing me inside.
But it has nothing to do with the grandness of the house.
It’s Liam who keeps reappearing in my mind, the way he stood at the bedroom door, his jaw tight and his eyes flitting up and down my body.
It was the same way he looked at me in the rearview mirror like he was angry like he hated me.
I keep wondering if Kayley told him I was coming.
Maybe he was expecting some quality time with his daughter and I rudely interrupted his plans.
But that doesn’t any make sense because she told me, several times, that her father was fine with me staying.
When I passed Liam to walk into this bedroom, I could’ve sworn he let out a trembling breath, deep and savage like he wanted to grab me by the shoulders and throw me from the room.
I sigh and sit up, turning on the bedside lamp. The bedroom is large and simply decorated, with an armchair in the corner and a wide oak desk. I’ve even got an ensuite with a waterfall shower. The mattress is like heaven. It’s better than any hotel room I’ve ever stayed in.
Maybe Liam was just pissed because he had to come and pick us up in the middle of the night. Maybe it has nothing to do with me particularly, and I’m just making a big deal out of it.
But I can’t forget the way he stared.
I flinch when I hear the scratching at my door.
As if this house wasn’t giving off enough creepy haunted vibes.
But this is Valentine’s, not Halloween.
I wish the house would settle down. I decide to ignore it, knowing that houses just make strange sounds sometimes.
But then it happens again, tsk-tsk.
“Hello?” I call, keeping my voice quiet even if the likelihood of waking somebody in this giant mansion is next to nil.
When it happens a third time, I throw the sheets back and march in my PJs across the bedroom. This is so silly. I’m twenty years old, and here I am acting like a stupid little girl, first with the crush and now with this nonsense.
I throw the door open, ready to chastise myself for working myself up for nothing.
But it’s not nothing. It’s a big, gorgeous dog, it’s fur the golden of a Retriever, with the startling blue eyes of a Husky.
“You must be Hunter,” I say, as the dog pads up to me and nuzzles my leg.
I grin, letting my hand move through his fur
“Hey, boy,” I say. “Aren’t you a friendly little man, huh?”
He whines and walks up and down next to my legs, rubbing his body against me, and then turns and trots away. I watch as he walks deeper into the low-lit hallway, and then stops and looks at me over his shoulder. He makes another whining sound.
