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As if summoned by my desire, the door opens to the bedroom, and he walks inside.
My eyes go wide.
Holy wow.
He’s handsome in a white thermal long-sleeve shirt and ripped jeans.
Jeez, this outfit should be illegal. He just looks so damn sexy.
He smiles broadly at me as he walks in, as if he knows he’s hot, and my reaction to him is something he’s used to.
The way he looks at me makes me feel hot, and all I want is for him to cross the space and resume what he started earlier.
“How’re you doing?”
I try to answer. Try to play it off as if I haven’t been sitting in a bed all by myself for the past four hours, counting down the minutes until he returned.
“You know.” I shrug. “Same old, same old.”
“Keeping busy, I see?” he jokes.
A little laugh follows, and again, I melt.
I like this playful side of him.
It’s sweet when he’s funny.
Yeah, he’s sexy, cocky, arrogant, and condescending, but I don’t even care. All I want is to kiss him. I have been dreaming about it every day since the last time he placed his mouth on mine, and now I can’t stop staring at his lips.
I shake my head and answer him, “You’ve missed quite the morning. Some of the best clubs in New York couldn’t hold a candle to all the fun I’ve been having.”
“Go on . . .”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I haven’t been doing . . .” I trail off, dipping my voice conspiratorially, “Believe it or not, and I know this might come as a ginormous shock, but I have not gone dancing.”
“No?” Feigned shock echoes in his voice.
“No.” I nod to my leg. “Apparently, I have a bum foot.”
“Then what did you do?” He sits on the bed, a safe distance from me.
“I also didn’t watch TV.”
“No binging Netflix?” he teases.
I lift my brow. “I also didn’t read Carl Jung.”
“Well, aren’t you the party animal?”
“I am. I stared at the paint,” I deadpan.
“Interesting.”
“I found it fascinating.” I lift my index finger. “Were you aware that you have a mark in the top left corner by the far wall?”
He turns to look at where I am pointing. “Nope.”
“If I could stand, I would show you.”
