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“I don’t hate it,” he argues as he pulls out the food from the bag. “I’m just not a complete fan.”
I keep my eyes trained on his face until he slowly turns his head to me.
“You hate it,” I announce.
His eyes roll, and I chuckle at the ridiculous look on his handsome face. “Fine, I hate it. But I ordered some fries and a salad.”
“What?” I screech incredulously. “You can’t order a salad at Wendy’s?”
“I’m pretty sure I just did.”
“No,” I argue. “I mean, who orders a salad at Wendy’s?”
“I did.” He gives me a dull look.
“You’re crazy. Don’t tell me you ordered me a salad too because you and I are going to have issues.”
Keeping his attention on me, he blindly pulls out a burger and hands it over.
“Thank you,” I purr, my lashes fluttering, making his head wag. “So, how was your meeting?” My eyebrows waggle.
“What meeting?” He pops a fry into his mouth, then leans back on the couch with the container of French fries in his lap.
“The one that made me walk to the office this morning.”
“Ah, that one.” He smirks. “It was good.”
“Yeah? How good?”
“Pretty good.”
“So you would say it was a success?” I push, bringing an entertained glint to flash in his eyes.
“You can put it like that.”
“But you’re not going to tell me?”
“Are you going to tell me why you’re not at Stanford right now?”
“No,” I snort. His eyes narrow in suspicion, his jaw ticking.
“You’re such a curious little thing, aren’t you?” he muses as he continues eating.
I shrug, taking another bite from my burger before I reply. “Maybe.”
“I bet there is this burning desire that just makes you want to scream because you have no clue.”
“There is, but that seems to be your specialty.” Our gazes stay locked, and the tension rises at my suggestive remark.
“What do you mean, Kayla?” His expression darkens.
“You know exactly what I mean.” My tongue darts out, licking my lips as I never divert my attention. “But I don’t mind showing you.”
He clears his throat, shifting on the couch while closing his eyes for a moment. I witness how the muscles in his body seem to tense, and I rein in my smile. When he opens them again, he gives me a stern look that only makes that smile take over.
“Kayla.”
“Just putting it out there,” I say, then put my focus back on the TV to give him a moment to regroup while the giddy feeling inside of me continues to grow bigger within seconds. I finish my burger with my eyes set on the screen even though I’m not following a word they are saying while Bodi does the same. When he sets his empty container on the table, he leans his elbows on his knees.
“What are you watching?” He frowns, though his body seems to relax a little.
I hold back a laugh, my point of his lack of focus by the fact that he’s only now asking what I’m watching, even though he’s been staring at the TV for minutes.
“Love Is Blind.”
I throw the leftover paper back in the bag, my eyes never leaving Bodi’s.
“You watch that shit?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. McKay,” I mock. “Doesn’t this meet your standard?”
“It’s dumb people, in a dumb show, to get their three minutes of fame. Definitely doesn’t meet my standard.”
“Mr. McKay, sooo condescending,” I tease. “What do you wanna watch, then?”
“Something more intelligent.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms in front of my chest.
He leans over, grabbing the remote sitting next to me. His hand moves close to my ankle and I can smell the wax in his hair that’s acting like a damn aphrodisiac. I straighten my back, slowly breathing out through my nose to calm the burning feeling between my thighs. My instinct tells me to jump him like a mountain lion, knowing deep down he wants me just as much as I want him. But instead, I just keep purring at my side of the couch like a well-mannered kitten.
He keeps his attention on me as he settles into the corner of the couch, his arms draped over the back of the piece of furniture while he starts to zip through the channels. My legs stretch like before as I bring my feet close to his legs. I do my best to push my horny self somewhere else, but she refuses to leave now that our bodies are almost touching. My eyes peer at the screen, barely registering anything until, finally, it stops.
“The Dark Knight!” he yelps enthusiastically, and I give him a blank expression.
“How is that more intelligent?”
“It’s not, but at least it has a story instead of a bucketload of stupid drama.”
“You’re such a guy.”
“You’re such a teenager,” he counters with a teasing look.
“Ouch. Don’t be a dick. Teenager or not,” I say as I slouch on the couch to rub the side of his jeans with my toes, “you know you want me.”
He grinds his teeth while I keep going until he snatches my ankle and I let out a startled shriek.
“You’re playing with fire, babe.”
“I’m aware,” I taunt.
“Kayla.” My name comes out with another reprimanding growl, but just like any other moment in the last few days, it does nothing to hold me back. It only functions as a vibration speaking to the aching of my pussy, wanting him to grunt my name when he’s buried deep inside of me.
