Page 8 of Love Like Lightning

It’s simpler and more in line with where my life is to just stick to the one-night stands.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“You know, I actually believe you.” She seems pleased with the discovery that I’m not a liar, almost like she’s used to dealing with liars more often than not.

“Is it a general rule to be skeptical of what people say, or just with men?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, and a laugh tumbles out of her lips. “Men, usually. I tend to trust what people say and then find out down the line that it’s been lip service the entire time. But you’re pretty blunt, aren’t you?”

I’d be worried that maybe I stuck my foot in my mouth, but she’s smiling as she asks. “I’m the youngest of five. I learned a long time ago that if I wanted my parents to pay attention to what I was saying, I had to be straightforward. But I lean toward the truth as a general rule. Just so you know.”

“I like straightforward.” Her caramel eyes don’t leave mine, but her expression turns suddenly serious.

No, not serious.

Smoldering. She’s smoldering.

I take a moment to really look at her. When I saw her at the bar, I knew I needed to talk to her. Her light brown hair was swept up into a ponytail, with a few loose strands framing her face. I liked the way she was smiling at her phone, although I was happy to hear she was reading and not texting some guy.

Now, she’s got her hair piled on top of her head in a bun. It looks darker, probably wet from a shower. Her lips tip up into a soft smile, and all I can think of is how much I want to kiss her. She’s wearing a dark green pajama set that looks comfortable and soft. It’s snug enough that I can see her curves, but loose enough that I’m itching to see what’s underneath.

She’s stunning. Point blank. And when we spoke? I just wanted to know more. I still do.

“I like you.” The truth, no matter how ridiculous it sounds considering how little time we’ve spent together, trips off my tongue.

Even after a long moment of silence, I can’t seem to regret the claim.

“You don’t know me, Henry.” The teasing lilt of her voice tells me that we’re still on the same page.

“I could get to know you.” Leaning forward, I clasp my hands together.

“You’d like to get to know me?”

“Absolutely. You shouldn’t sound so surprised. I’m sure there are plenty of guys out in the world who would.”

“You’re coming on to me.” Clear interest flares behind her eyes, and this is what I love.

The back and forth. Banter. It all adds to the experience.

“That’s kind of what this all is, Gianna. I’d rather be making you come, but whether that happens or not is entirely up to you.” I sit back, unclasping my hands, and try not to focus on what’s going on in my pants.

Am I losing my touch? Getting hard from just a simple conversation with a girl?

“And if I say I’d be interested in that?” She tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes just enough that the caramel brown is almost nonexistent.

“Are you interested?”

“I’m leaving in the morning.”

“I don’t usually do repeat performances.” That’s only a half lie. I don’t normally. Milly Carter, a friend and occasional hookup from high school, is a different situation, but she’s almost never in town, meaning we almost never hook up anymore, so it’s not worth the mention.

Gia considers my words, and I witness the moment she decides for sure where she wants this to go. In the next beat, she stands and strips out of those pajamas. I blink, and she’s standing in front of me in red cotton panties and a matching bra. Her brief moments of boldness are such a turn on, I have to bite back a groan.

I let my eyes drag down her body, snagging on every curve and dip. Her skin is a light tan that I suspect persists year-round, despite the season. There’s a freckle just above her navel, and my mouth waters just thinking about getting my tongue on her.

Without another word, I stand and pull my long sleeve tee off in one fell swoop. I let her look at me for a moment before saying anything myself. I can feel her eyes as they roam over my exposed skin, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t flex a little.

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