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“Sorry, Remington, this is my roommate and friend, Scarlett.”
“Nice to meet you.”
"Remi is a Big Brother," Lucy explains.
Remi?
My heart beats harder at the nickname. No one has ever called me that before and I love that it’s only Lucy.
"You have a big brother?" Scarlett asks.
“No,” I growl, giving Lucy a heated look. “I am definitelynother brother.”
Lucy blushes and she looks like she wants to be anywhere but here. Scarlett doesn’t seem to get that message, or maybe she does and just wants to enjoy Lucy’s torture a little longer.
“And how did you two meet?” Scarlett asks with a smile as I lean against the wall.
“At the Big Brothers Big Sisters program. Our kids are best friends,” Lucy explains.
“Are the kids here?” Scarlett asks, looking around the empty house.
Lucy flushes a deeper shade of red.
“Well, no…”
“We’re going to drive there together,” I tell her, jumping in to try to rescue Lucy. She looks like she’s going to bolt, and I can’t have that happening.
“I told you that wasn’t needed,” Lucy grumbles, and I just give her a hard look.
“And I said that it was,” I tell her.
“Aren’t you late for work?” Lucy asks Scarlett, and she sighs.
“Yeah, I just came to grab this folder from the front table, but I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you two later,” Scarlett says before she turns and heads back over to the front door.
"It was nice to meet you, Remington!" she calls over her shoulder.
“You too!” I call back to her, but I never take my eyes off of Lucy.
We stare at each other for awhile after Scarlett is gone. I smile when I see it in Lucy’s eyes.
Excitement and lust. She wants me just as much as I want her.
Now I just need to get her to admit that.
SEVEN
Lucy
Noah and Juneenjoyed the movie, and they especially enjoyed the snacks we loaded them up with. I noticed that Noah had a granola bar in his hand when we picked him up a few hours ago for the movie. I was right, Remi loaded him up with groceries before dropping him off earlier this afternoon. Can this man stop being so perfect? It’s getting impossible to resist him.
We dropped the kids off at their respective homes about forty-five minutes ago, and then Remington took us to a hidden gem of a deli with artesian sandwiches and homemade soup. Now, we’re in the car on the way to my house, and the air is thick with pent-up tension and need.
All during the movie, Remington found little ways to touch me and caress my skin, each delicate brush of his fingertips reverberating throughout my body. At one point, he turned my forearm on the armrest, exposing my palm, wrist, and inner arm. Remington circled his fingers around my palm, then drew patterns on the sensitive skin of my wrist, pausing to feel my pulse. He continued his torturous, tender touches, dragging his hand up my arm and pausing to tickle the inside of my elbow before reversing his path.
“What are you thinking about?” Remington asks, his eyes darting to mine before focusing back on the road.
“Oh, um, just…” I scramble to think of anything to say other than the truth. “Your fingertips on my skin,” I blurt out.So much for playing it cool.
