Page 41 of Unconventional


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The knock came, and I could barely breathe. It was so stupid, too. So totally and completely—

“Hello princess.”

He stood in the doorway, looking dirty and ragged. Not tired, though. Even after a long day there was still plenty of life in his eyes.

“Hi.”

It sounded so lame. So totally unlike me! As I stood there trying to regain control, the sound of a truck kicking up gravel rumbled somewhere behind him.

“Are the others gone?”

Chase nodded. “It’s just you and me.” He shifted from one foot to the other, looking me over with a sly smile. “You gonna invite me in, or…”

“Yes, sorry!” I laughed. “Of course.”

He entered the foyer, unlacing his mud-covered boots. The rest of him was just as dirty, even the threadbare duffel he’d pulled from the truck with presumably a change of clothes.

“Shower’s upstairs if you want it,” I said. “Clean towels, too.”

“You don’t like me dirty?” he flirted.

“I like you any way you come,” I flirted back.

I wondered if my emphasis on that last word was subconsciously intentional. I certainly didn’t do it on purpose.

We spun into the kitchen together, but unlike the other nights I had very little cooking going on. Instead I’d plugged in a pot roast, eight or ten hours ago. The delicious smell of meat, potatoes, and vegetables permeated the air, courtesy of my late uncle’s very old, but very trustworthy slow-cooker.

I turned to find Chase still behind me, staring at my ass. Looking at me as if I smelled even more delicious than the pot roast.

“See anything you like?” I asked, before I could talk myself out of saying it.

“That’d be an understatement.”

Heat swirled its way up through my loins, spreading fire to my skin. I was still fresh from my night with Julian. Only instead of being sated — and believe me, I’d been more than sated — it seemed the more I got… the more I wanted.

“Well what are you going to do then?” I asked, my voice dripping with mock innocence. I leaned back against the counter, one leg crossing casually over the other.

Chase walked through the kitchen like he owned the place, moving with a swagger only guys like him could pull off. He pulled open the fridge, came out with a pair of beers, and screwed the tops off them.

“That all depends,” he said, handing one over. I took it slowly, letting my hand linger on his before finally bringing it to my lips.

“On what?”

“On whether or not you’re willing to get dirty.”

I chuckled into the neck of my bottle, tilting my head. “Oh I can get dirty.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he saluted me.

“It’s just…” I breathed, sticking my chest out. “Just…”

“Just what?”

I eyed him provocatively. “The truth?”

“Of course,” he smiled.

“I don’t know whether to jump you right now and get it over with, or keep the butterflies going until later tonight.” I sighed, nervously. “Either way, though. You’re getting laid.”

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