Page 128 of Crash Course
"Uh, no problem with that. Ever." He kept his gaze pinned to her face. "But let’s talk a second. Tell me more about this situation with Paul."
Sigh. She stood literally half naked in front of him and he wanted totalk? A man. Wanted to talk?
This would only happen to her.
She let out a laugh, walked back to where she’d tossed her blouse and slipped it on again, not bothering with the buttons. If she had her way, it wouldn’t be on long. "Paul suspects I’ve been logging in as Dad. I have to figure out a way out of it. Fairly simple." She reached for him again. "Now. Fuck me blind."
He laughed. "Talk about a one-track mind. Did he talk to your father about this?"
"You want to talk about my father?Now?"
"No. Trust me on that. I’m worried about you."
"You don’t need to be. I’m a big girl and I know you’ll help me." She lifted the hem of his shirt. "Now, let’s get this off and you can give me what I need. I will, of course, reciprocate. How’s that sound, fella?"
"That sounds freaking spectacular."
He let her pull the shirt off—Yay, Cruz—and she immediately went to work, dragging her fingertips over the rock-hard planes of his chest, down his cut abs to the button on his jeans.
"How much time," she asked, "do you spend in the gym?"
"Five days a week. Two, three hours a day. This week? Not so much. Been a little busy."
Her phone rang.Dammit.
Cruz stepped back. "Go ahead," he said. "Might be important."
She slipped the phone from her pants pocket. Tom again. "Hi, Tom," she said, her tone a tad too sharp.
"Sorry to disturb you. I have your father down here."
Cilla glanced back at a shirtless Cruz Blackwell and nearly cracked up over the smattering of her lipstick smeared across his mouth. He’d have to wipe that clean if her father were coming up.
Gah. She pondered her options. A.) Ditch Dad and screw Cruz’s lights out. B.) Talk to her father and then screw Cruz’s lights out.
She’d spent most of her life putting her own wishes and schedules aside in service to her father’s whims and lately, all it got her was aggravation. And it was her own fault for not setting boundaries.
Time to take control and put herself first.
She’d tell her father to go away. That she had company and she’d speak to him tomorrow.
Cruz frowned. "What is it?"
"Tom, would you please hold a second?" She pulled the phone from her ear and tapped mute. "My father is downstairs."
"Awkward," he said.
"Should I tell him to leave?"
Putting his hands up, he snorted. "Hey, now. That’syourcall."
"Cruz!"
He laughed. "If it were up to me," he pointed to his crotch "and my extremely hard dick, yeah, I’d tell him we’re about to fuck each other stupid and he should come back later. You? Not so sure that’s the way to go."
Horrified, Cilla gasped. "You wouldn’t say that to my father!"
"You sure you want to test that theory?"
