Page 15 of Imperfect Match (Imperfect Match 1)
“Ha! Since when?”
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you to worry that I thought about you like that.”
A few seconds tick by, during which I wonder what the actual fuck I am doing.
“But … do you? Think about me like that?” Her voice has grown softer. More curious and less accusatory.
“Sometimes,” I admit, and it’s the truth, although a second later I want to kick myself. I should have lied. “But it’s no big deal.”
She blinks. “What?”
“I mean, I’m a dude. We’re always thinking about beautiful women like that.”
Her defenses go right back up. “So, what you’re saying is, I’m not special.”
“I’m not saying that at all. In fact, you’re so special I shut down those kinds of thoughts about you right away. Because I don’t want anything to ruin what we’ve got. But it doesn’t mean I never have them.”
“Oh. Okay.” With that, she turns around again and walks away.
“Hey, wait a minute!” I chase her into the darkened living room and grab her by the elbow. “What about you?”
She looks back. “What about me?”
“Well,”—I struggle with words, which is odd for me—“do you ever think about me like that?”
Her eyes are wide and innocent. “Like what?”
“You know.” Letting go of her arm, I make a forward-motion gesture with my hand. “Like when you saw me naked, did it make you want me?”
“Want you?” She tilts her head and squints a little, like she’s thinking back. “No, not really.”
I’m so stunned, I just stand there, jaw dropped.
She moves toward her bedroom again, and it’s not until she starts giggling and breaks into a run that I realize she’s fucking with me.
I take off after her again, reaching her door just as she tries to slam it shut. Without even thinking, I burst through it with so much force I crash into her and we both go down onto her bedroom floor. She’s trapped beneath me, squealing with laughter and scrambling to get away, and I manage to get her wrists pinned over her head, snickering triumphantly. My body is sprawled over hers, that towel and my clothing the only barriers between us, and neither of them hides my hard-on very well.
Oh, fuck.
She stops struggling, and both of us stop laughing. Her breath is coming fast, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath mine. My heart is beating way too hard.
The lamp on her nightstand is on, and her face is in the light. Her lips are open. Her eyes are locked on mine. Her expression is expectant—what comes next?
I recover my senses, that’s what.
Letting go of her, I hop to my feet and nod once. “Let that be a lesson to you.”
Then I’m out. I need the safety of two locked doors between us. I need a beer. I need a cold shower.
Jesus fucking Christ, that was close.
What the hell was I thinking?
Five
Willow
What … just happened?
