Page 75 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
Way to get my head straight. Tell him there was nothing to the other night and then admit to him that I’m thinking of it.
“Why ever would you think that?” He feigns innocence, but a smile plays on his lips.
“The agreeing to my rules but then turning around and saying I shouldn’t believe anything said in the heat of passion. That type of thing.”
He shrugs. “I agreed to your rules. We had sex. We got each other out of our systems,” he says, but the way his eyes run up and down the length of my body has me shifting my feet to abate the ache the hunger in his look causes. It’s like he’s remembering every line and curve and flavor. “And now I’m here because I wanted to see you.”
“But why? I’ve been nothing but bitchy to you.”
He shrugs again. “Your words, not mine.”
“I know, but they’re true. We squabble like brother and sister and—”
“Not exactly like brother and sister, or else that would make the other night a little more awkward than you’re already making it.”
“You’re a bucket full of laughs today, aren’t you?”
“Always.” And there goes the panty-dropping smile of his that makes me weak in the knees when I don’t get weak in the knees. “I’m sorry. You were saying? Brother and sister . . .”
My concentration is lost amid his interruptions, leaving me to fumble with where I was going with my point. “Just why? That’s all. Why would you want to come see me if I’ve been nothing but rude to you?”
“Because despite it all—or maybe because of it—I like you. And seeing as we got each other out of our systems, maybe I want to be friends.”
“Friends with benefits,” I retort.
“Not gonna deny the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.” His eyes lock with mine, those gold flecks dancing as my thoughts swirl, whirl, and tumble out of control.
“You’re serious.”
God, please let him be serious.
“As a heart attack.”
Thoughts of us in the dim light fill my mind. The warmth. The pleasure. The comfort. The praise.
The breaking of rules.
“C’mon, Em. You know it’s a good idea. We’ll both be the beneficiaries of good sex—sex we’ve already proven to be top notch—and we don’t have to deal with the complications of afterward. The clingy one who suddenly wants more. The frantic phone calls to make sure we’re thinking about them. The randomly showing up where we like to hang out to make sure we didn’t forget them.”
I chuckle because it’s as if he’s repeating every scenario for why I’ve deleted names from my phone.
“See? You know what I’m talking about. You know that’s all a pain in the ass.”
“Kind of like you?”
“Yeah, but I’m a cute pain in the ass.”
I can’t stifle my laugh because he’s wearing me down, not that I’ve put up much resistance.
“I have to think about this . . . without you in my face, badgering me like a little kid.” Because I know he’s playing me right now, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t a pretty brilliant play.
His laugh fills the room, and I know he knows he has me.
“Meet me here tomorrow after work. Like seven-ish. We can talk then.”
“Deal.” His grin is back and as disarming as ever.
And when he turns to go out the door, I hate that every part of me is relieved that I have an excuse to get to see him again. Whether I agree to his plan or not, at least I know he’ll be here tomorrow. I spent the last week avoiding him, and I would never admit it aloud, but I’d missed him.
