“Is there a good reason for your distraction? And by good, I mean…” Mila wiggles her eyebrows at me suggestively.
My hands come up to cover my flaming cheeks.
“I knew it! Oh my God, what happened? Did you make your move?” Mila’s vibrating in place. I almost hate to disappoint her.
“Nothing happened. He went on a date, it apparently sucked, he complained about it, and then I offered to help him.”
“Help him how?” Her eyes narrow at me.
It’s my turn to start fidgeting under the intensity of her scrutiny. “By…offering to…go on a practice date with him tonight.”
“Yeah, girl!” Mila holds out her fist for me to bump, like some sort of teenage skater kid. I ignore it. But one thing about Mila, she’s like a dog with a bone. She doesn’t give up, so it comes as no surprise when she picks up my hand and forces the bump she’s looking for. “Okay so what’s the plan? Where are you guys going?”
“Insignia.”
“Ooooh, the fancy new steak place in Westport? Nice choice! What are you going to wear?”
“I don’t know, Mila, clothes? It’s not like it’s a real date, so why does it matter!” I throw my hands up in exasperation and turn away. But Mila just walks over and wraps her arms around my midsection, resting her head on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be pushy.”
“It’s okay,” I reply quietly. “I’m nervous, Mila.”
She turns me around slowly. “Then we need to make sure you’re looking and feeling every bit as irresistible as you are.”
“What exactly does that mean?” I ask, and a look of mischief comes over her face.
“It means we’re going shopping. You’re gonna look so good, it’ll be a slap in his face when he realizes just how hot you are. You might have planned this as a practice date —” Mila rubs her hands together “— but by the end of tonight, there won’t be any doubt that you’re the woman Jensen should be with.”
Chapter eight
Jensen
“What d’you think, bud? Blue or grey?” I hold up two shirts. Oliver keeps on snoring. “You’re so helpful.” I drop the blue shirt on the bed. “Or maybe I’m just the idiot who’s asking his dog for fashion advice.”
“Hey, J? Can you, uh, help me with something?” Kelly’s voice is muffled by the door, but Oliver still lifts his head and looks toward it.
“Oh. Sure.Heryou listen to,” I mutter, leaving my shirt half-buttoned as I go to open the door. “Of course, what’s —”
Holy. Shit.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen Kelly dressed in anything other than leggings, jeans, or shorts. I’vedefinitelynever seen her in a dress that is hitting her curves in all the right places. It does some weird twisty-knot-wrap thing in the front, accentuating her body perfectly. But the part that is really getting to me is where the folds of fabric part over her legs, letting just enough of her thigh peek through.
Now all I can think of is pinning her against the wall and sliding my hand underneath that dark green silky fabric to see what’s beneath it.
“Jensen?” Her hesitant voice jolts me out of the fog of lust swirling in my head.
“Right. Sorry. Umm.” I lick my suddenly dry lips. “What did you need me to do?” Fucking hell, why is my voice cracking like a highschooler going through puberty?
“The zipper, J, I already said so. Are you feeling okay?”
Great, now Kelly’s looking at me like I’m crazy, which maybe I am for having these thoughts about her. I shake my head.
“Yeah, of course.”
She turns around, and I try to control the tremor in my hands as I slide the zipper up the line of her back. Jesus Christ. Her skin is right there, looking soft, tanned, and inviting. When my fingers brush against her neck, she visibly shivers. And my dick takes notice.
But then something bumps into the two of us, and Kelly lets out a little shriek, breaking the spell. “Jesus, Ollie, your nose is cold!”
