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“Good. I was hoping you could say that. A guy’s got to keep up his strength.”
The implication left her dizzy. That he needed strength to finish off the night in the way she’d just imagined. Maybe a little more creative than that. Her body ignited like she’d just been showered in gasoline and Cason threw a match at her.
He stepped past her easily, like he wasn’t at all affected by what he’d just thrown out there. He grabbed a fluffy white towel off the rack by the shower and passed it to her first. She took it gratefully, wrapping herself up, wondering if she should put her clothes back on.
Oddly enough, it was the only embarrassing thought she’d had all evening.
“You can wear one of my t-shirts,” Cason offered. “Honestly. I’d like to see you in it. If we’re talking fantasies, that might be mine.”
“That’s a very sweet kind of fantasy,” she said before she could keep the words in.
He kept his face neutral as he stretched the same towel as he’d had on around his waist. The same towel that easily wrapped around her twice. “Yes, well… We’ll see if you still think I have sweet fantasies in an hour when I’m not on the verge of passing out from lack of food.”
He left her like that, standing there in his bathroom, wrapped in his towel, burning into a pillar of ash.
This was why she’d never done one-night stands. Because they were dangerous. Because she was always the most afraid, deep down, that no strings would always make her wish that there were at least a couple. That one night didn’t have to just mean one.
CHAPTER 9
Byron
Byron literally didn’t have a fucking clue what he was doing. He’d gone from having a plan A- somehow track Noemi down and see if she could be bargained into some kind of deal or try and sit her down and see if she could see reason, had turned into Plan B- lie like a piece of shit, seduce an innocent, unsuspecting woman like an even bigger sack of shit, invite her over, and fuck her brains out on every surface of the house in every way possible and let her reciprocate to her heart’s content.
Fuck. Fuck.
He needed time to think.
He truly was starving, but pizza seemed like a good call. It gave him time to get dressed, get Noemi covered at least, and put a little bit of distance between them so he could cool off and think rationally.
Unfortunately, even after the pizza arrived, twenty minutes late, he still hadn’t managed to talk himself down. Probably because his dick was currently syphoning all the blood away from his brain and who the hell could make a rational decision when they were so hard they could probably karate chop a metal door in half with their cock?
He realized that there was a very good possibility that he was going to fuck up everything he’d spent over a year working on. His company. His shoes. His father’s legacy. Everyfuckingthing. All because his dick refused to stand down. Literally.
“This is really good pizza.” Noemi said it around a mouthful of said pizza, and god, it was hot as sin that she wasn’t too afraid to both stuff her face with carbs and talk with her mouth full.
He knew so many women who wouldn’t touch a carb if it bit them in the ass. He’d been on a few dates, back when he believed in dating, where women he wouldn’t name, mostly because he couldn’t remember their names, had taken literally hours with the menu then decided on a side of broccoli as their meal. To each their own, but it was nice to finally meet someone who ate like a normal person. Hopefully, it wasn’t another first for her, but he doubted it. Noemi didn’t seem like a high maintenance chick.
She probably rolled out of bed looking just as beautiful as she was at the moment. No makeup after their shower. Hair still damp and slightly frizzy on top. Huge eyes. Thick lashes. The most adorable nose and the fullest lips. Flawless. Radiant. Gorgeous.
Far too good for him.
Byron nearly choked on a piece of pepperoni. He coughed and thumped his chest. “Sorry. Inhaled that, I think.”
Noemi looked at him strangely, half concern, half contrite, like it was her fault that he was too hungry and literally demolished a quarter of the pizza in a few minutes flat. “That’s okay. You don’t have to apologize,” she giggled. “Just don’t die on me.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t have to see me again after tonight anyway.” It was supposed to be a joke, but Noemi turned her face so he couldn’t see her expression. He had yet to turn on a movie, but she studied the blank TV like there was something fascinating going on there.
