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My eyes fly open when he clears his throat, and I watch him roughly shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, giving me a nod.
“Lesson’s over. Nicely done.”
I review everything that just happened between us in my head, realizing I rambled some stupid, useless fact in the middle of trying to flirt with him, wondering if that’s what killed the mood and why he moved away from me.
“Don’t lie. There was nothing nicely done about that. There’s nothing sexy or flirtatious about me giving you facts on eye color,” I tell him with a roll of my eyes.
“I’m not lying. You were being you, which is exactly what I told you to do. When you’re lost in the moment and not stuck in your own head, you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”
My mouth drops open in shock, and my heart starts beating so rapidly, I’m surprised it doesn’t explode.
Suddenly, he turns and walks away from me, heading towards the hallway, and I wonder why he’s walking away so quickly if he really believes what he just told me.
“Where are you going?! Come back! Teach me more!” I shout after him.
“Lesson’s over,” he repeats without stopping. “I need a fucking cold shower.”
I wait until he disappears down the hallway and I hear the slam of the bathroom door to let the excited smile take over my face.
Chapter 17: The Jig Is Up
“And THIS is the hallway,” I announce, sweeping my hand out to the side and sloshing a little of my wine onto the floor. “Isn’t it a nice hallway?”
I press my cheek against the cool wall, closing my eyes with sigh.
It’s been two days since Vincent gave me my first sexy, flirty lesson, and there hasn’t been a second one. Or a second kiss, no matter how hard I’ve tried. Sure, we’ve only seen each other for a few minutes after he’s woken up and before I needed to leave for work, but I spent those minutes practicing my flirting game by complimenting him and just being myself, and not being nervous about standing close to him when I did this. I’ve pressed my hand against his chest without his help, and I’ve even slid my shoulder against his body when I’ve walked by him in the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. Yesterday, I went so far as pressing both my hands to his chest and lifting myself up on my toes to get closer to him when I told him to have a nice night at work. And still, all I have is my memory of that first kiss to keep me warm at night.
That kiss . . . the cause for all the tossing and turning I’ve done since Vincent gave me my first lesson, and why I invited Cindy and Ariel over tonight to commiserate with me. The wine was just an added bonus, provided by Cindy.
“Okay, fine. I’m convinced this isn’t a torture den. It’s actually a really nice place,” Ariel relents after I finish giving them the grand tour. Then she walks over to the closed door across from Vincent’s bedroom. “What’s in here?”
I open my eyes with my cheek still pressed against the wall and watch her rattle the locked door handle.
“There’s a room down the hall, across from my bedroom. It’s locked. It’s always locked. Don’t touch it, and don’t try to get in it. That room stays locked and no one goes in it. Grrrrrr,” I speak in a deep, grumpy voice, imitating Vincent as best I can, with a little growl at the end. “That’s house rule number eleventy-ten. Math is hard.”
Pushing away from the wall, I take another sip of my wine while Ariel continues trying to twist the handle.
“And that doesn’t scream serial killer to you?” Cindy asks, moving around me to stand next to Ariel.
She pushes Ariel out of the way and tries the handle herself.
“Still locked, genius. Did you think you would magically touch it and it would open for you?” Ariel complains.
“I tried to get PJ to tell me everything he knows about Beast, but he was tight-lipped. Even after I gave him the best blow job of his life,” Cindy complains, stepping back from the door to cross her arms in front of her and look the thing up and down. “He said Beast is his friend and it’s up to him to open up about his life when he feels ready. But he reassured me that Belle is in very good hands. He said Beast can be a little rough around the edges, but deep down, he’s a good guy.”
“A good guy who promised to teach me how to be sexy and flirty, and aside from one lesson a few days ago, hasn’t done anything else,” I tell them with a pout, draining the rest of my wine and swaying a little.
