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“I like it,” I repeat and close the few steps between us so I can hook a soft strand behind her ear.
She shivers.
I grin down at her.
“I guess we can’t forget to rearrange those letters,” she says and licks her lips.
“Do I make you nervous?”
“Don’t you make everyone nervous?”
I smile softly. “No.”
The women I’ve known lately are too confident, in an egocentric, arrogant way that isn’t flattering to them. They just don’t hold my interest.
Aubrey, though, is sweet and…normal. She’s an attractive woman who makes me feel good when I’m with her.
“When you’re not arranging my letters into crude, inappropriate words—which I admit is funny—you’re a little intimidating.”
“Because of my celebrity status?”
Her mouth opens and then closes again. “Well, of course. Yes. But also because you’re—” She gestures vaguely to me. “You’re that.”
“I’m what?”
“You know what.”
God, she makes me laugh. “I don’t. Use your words, Aubrey.”
A startled giggle escapes her, and she shakes her head. “You’re hot, Zane.”
I gasp and clutch at my non-existent pearls. “Me? Hot?”
She rolls her eyes and drags the stepladder over to start rearranging my letters. When she’s three steps up, I’m at eye-level with her breasts.
Not a bad place to be if I’m honest.
“Hold these.” She takes letters down and passes them to me. She’s up and down on the stool as she has to move it side to side to put the letters on the wall. I should take over for her, but damn it, I like seeing her move on and off the ladder.
Fifteen minutes later, the letters are arranged in the correct order, and when Aubrey turns to get down, she stumbles, falling forward. I wrap my arms around her middle to catch her.
My face plants right in her cleavage, and her arms wrap around my neck.
We don’t move for a good five seconds.
“I’m so sorry,” she says and pushes her hands against my shoulders. I let her slide slowly to the floor, but I don’t loosen my grasp on her.
“Easy there.” I watch her mouth as she licks those lips once more. I want to taste them. I want to feel her move and moan under me, more than I’ve ever wanted anything else. “Aubrey, I’d like to kiss you.”
“Oh.” Her brown eyes widen, and her breath quickens.
Jesus, I can’t resist her.
“If you’d rather I didn’t, I need you to say so, honey.”
“It’s okay. If you want to.”
Being given the green light has never sounded so damn good. I slowly lower my head and brush my lips against hers gently. Once, twice. And then I kiss her. Not too deep or too intensely, but enough to make it clear that I enjoy it very much—so much that I’d love to boost her up against the wall and sink inside of her. Make her squirm in delight.
When I pull away, I rest my forehead on hers, and we both take a deep breath.
“So, let me get this straight,” she says and looks me in the eyes. “You’re hot, and you’re a grade-A kisser? I don’t think that’s fair. There should be a rule against that somewhere.”
I grin and kiss her forehead. “It takes two to make a good kiss.”
“Yeah, well.” She doesn’t say anything else as she pulls back and presses her fingers to her lips. “I think I’m done for tonight. It’s getting late, and I have to be back here by eight tomorrow morning.”
“Let’s go, then,” I say and help her get the room locked up. “Are you hungry?”
“So hungry,” she confirms. “Let’s order pizza or something. I don’t want to go sit in a restaurant. I’m probably stinky after all of that work.”
She turns a horrified look my way after starting the car.
“Oh, God. Do I stink?”
She smells her armpits and makes me laugh.
“No. You don’t stink. You’re funny, you know that?”
“Funny-looking,” she says as if it’s an automatic response that she’s used for years.
I don’t like it. Not one bit.
“What do you like on your pizza?” She flips on her turn signal and looks at me expectantly. “I usually go for plain ol’ pepperoni, but I’m flexible. Except when it comes to mushrooms. I don’t eat fungus.”
“I like only mushrooms on my pizza.”
She rolls her eyes and lets out a gusty sigh. “Liar.”
I grin. I love it that she calls me out on my shit. That she treats me like a normal person.
“Pepperoni works for me. Should we pretend we’re adults and also get a salad? Eat a vegetable?”
“If you insist.” She parks her car in her spot, and we get out, making our way up to our condo.
“Why don’t you go get comfortable, and I’ll order the pizza?” I suggest. She yawns, lifts her arms over her head, and sniffs an armpit again.
“Good idea. I am a little ripe. I’ll just take a shower.”
“Do you prefer regular or thin crust?” I call after her as she walks down the hallway.
