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Plus, not all that long ago, I was considering doing porn and surely topless waitressing is a better option than porn. I mean, it has to be—right?
Chapter Twenty-Three
West
It’s been a week since Stacia picked up her second job, and it feels like I only see her in passing, like we’re nothing more than two ships in the night. I know she’s helping her family, but fuck, I miss her. Which is the only explanation for why I’m downstairs attempting to wow her with a home-cooked breakfast instead of getting ready for my much-dreaded standing bimonthly lunch with my dear old dad.
But really, how hard can eggs and bacon be?
Hard. Really hard.
My sad attempt at eggs are stuck to the pan and my bacon is charred beyond recognition.
“What’s that smell?” her soft, sleepy voice asks as she pads into the kitchen.
I sigh as her bare legs come into view. “That would be my attempt at making you breakfast.”
Swear to God, she swoons. “You tried cooking for me?”
“Try being the keyword.”
She saunters closer, her sleep shirt skimming her thighs. She pops herself up onto the island and draws me between her legs, her fingers tangling in my hair. “A for effort,” she whispers before brushing her lips against mine.
I’m not really sure what’s happening right now, but Jesus H. Christ, I will attempt three meals a day for her for life if this is the response it gets me.
Sure, we’ve become more and more affectionate, but we typically straddle that friends-slash-more-than-friends line pretty well, angry sex and car date aside.
But now, as our kiss moves from soft and exploring to five-alarm-fire, I can’t help but wonder what brought on this highly welcome change.
Especially when she starts rubbing her panty-clad pussy against my thigh like a cat in heat, pun intended.
As much as I’d love to let this continue and to lose myself in the Mecca that is her body, I can’t without talking to her first. I need to know her frame of mind before this goes any farther. So, with great willpower, I pull back.
I keep one arm locked around her middle and cradle her cheek with my free hand. “You okay?” I ask, praying like hell she doesn’t think I’m rejecting her.
Stacia blinks and shakes her head. “Oh, wow. Shit.” She tries to wriggle free. I step back to give her some space, but not enough to duck and run. “I…I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve just been…” She trails off.
“You’ve been what?” I ask, gently trying to coax the words from her.
She buries her face in her hands. “Turned on. Like, every little thing revs me up here lately. I’m like a teenaged boy. A stiff wind is enough to make me want to…ugh!”
I bite my lip to hide my grin. “There’s no shame in wanting sex.”
She pins me with a glare. “I know that. And I’m not ashamed. Just a little embarrassed that I basically tried to dry hump you in the kitchen with the smell of burned bacon wafting in the background.”
I step back, and wink, trying to keep things light and easy. “You can dry hump me anytime.”
“You ass,” she says, but she’s laughing and smiling now. Mission accomplished.
“Any particular reason you think you’re so…randy?” I finish the sentence in my best British accent—ala Austin Powers—and waggle my brows.
“I just had my period.” She shrugs, like that explains everything. Hell, maybe it does. Because while I know my way around a woman’s body, I don’t know shit about its inner workings.
Still, I nod like it makes perfect sense. “You free today?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I was gonna try and visit my mom, actually.”
“In town?” I ask, following my question immediately with another. “Do you ever go see your dad?”
She deflates. “Uh, no. To both. Dad refuses to let Mom and me visit; says he doesn’t want us to see him like that. And my grandparents couldn’t afford the cottage anymore, so they’re back home and Mom went with them.”
An ache forms in my chest as her brown eyes brim with tears. Before I know it, I find myself asking, “Want some company for the drive?”
“Really?” she asks, twirling a red strand around her index finger, her tears drying as a breath-stealing smile tips up the corners of her mouth.
“Really, really. I just need to shower and make a quick phone call.”
She lets out a happy squeak and hugs me to her again. “Thank you!”
I run my knuckles over her cheekbone. “Don’t you know I’d do just about anything for you?” I ask, leaving her, rosy cheeks and all, with those parting words.
In my room, I dial up my dad, mentally prepping for whatever he may throw my way. “Weston,” he barks into the phone after the first ring.
“I’m not gonna make it today.” I cut the shit and get straight to the point.
