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“But then there are guys like Vega and Blink, guys like me, who know nothing about girly shit. We want a sports-watching, beer-drinking, kick-your-ass-if-you’re-a-prick-and-still-look-hot-doing-it in yoga pants kind of girl.” He grins, and holy crap, I think my womb just spasmed.
“Really?”
“You have seen your ass in yoga pants, right?”
I whack him in the face with the cushion, making him roar with laughter.
“You pick the movie while I go boil the pasta, dumbass.”
I head to the kitchen to see the water rapidly boiling, so I toss in the pasta and pop a pan on the stove beside it. I add some chopped tomatoes to the pan, a pinch of sugar, some seasoning, and some herbs before letting it simmer.
By the time the tomatoes are ready, the veggies and pasta are done. I toss them all together, scatter some sharp cheddar on top, and spoon it into bowls before heading back to the living room.
“Here.” I hand him a bowl and sit beside him, tucking one leg under me.
“Hmm…this smells amazing,” he murmurs before digging in.
“So, what have you settled on?”
“Two Weeks Notice. I figure you can’t go wrong with Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant.”
“Truer words have never been spoken.” I grin before taking a bite of my food.
We settle in and watch the movie, laughing at the movie couple’s antics with ease. For someone who doesn’t usually take to new people well, Graves has managed to slide in under my defenses.
Placing his bowl on the table, he kicks his feet up beside it and rubs his flat stomach. “That was so good, I could eat more.”
“There’s more in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, but if I eat it now, I’ll want to kick my own ass at lunch tomorrow when I’m left with a soggy sandwich.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I laugh, handing him what’s left of mine. “I’m stuffed. Finish mine off if you want.”
He snatches the bowl without protest and wolfs it down as if he’s starving.
I tug the throw under my chin and lean back to watch the rest of the movie. When my eyes start to get heavy, I decide to head on up to bed. I guess I don’t get much farther than thinking about it because when I open my eyes next, it’s pitch-black, and I’m still on the sofa. Sprawled out on top of Graves.
I listen to the rhythmic beat of his heart for a moment before lifting my head and glancing around. Lightning flashes outside the window, illuminating Graves’s face. I don’t climb off him right away. He looks so peaceful that I’m loath to disturb him. Instead, I watch him like a creeper as the storm rages outside.
A loud clap of thunder rips through the calm room, jolting Graves awake. I freeze, not sure how to play things. Should I pretend to just wake up too? I don’t want the man to know I’m a weirdo after all.
“Hey,” his husky sleep voice whispers as his hand squeezes my hips.
“Hey. Looks like we fell asleep.”
And the award goes to Captain Obvious for her amazing observational skills.
“But now we’re awake,” I add and grimace.
Please, for the love of God, just stop talking.
Although, speaking of things that are awake…
I shift, slightly aware of two things. One, Graves is hard as a rock, and I am not talking about his abs. Two, I’m more turned on than a leaky faucet right now, and all he had to do was mumble to me in that gravelly voice of his.
Abort mission, Reese. Abort.
When his hand slides underneath the T-shirt I’m wearing, I shiver and come to the realization that I’m fucked. My will to leave is non-existent. My urge for some deep dicking is at an all-time high.
