Page 66 of Text Appeal

He cocks his head. “She doesn’t want to have sex?”

“I didn’t say that. It just hasn’t occurred to her yet that she’s in what is potentially a sexually primed situation.”

“Okay. What does the hero do?”

I clear my throat. “He might make some sort of overture toward intimate relations. Or she’ll accidentally stumble upon his previously mentioned hard-on of the century.”

His brows rise. “What if it’s only the hard-on of the year or like the financial quarter? Would that still be acceptable?”

“You’re funny.” I pause to inspect my work. “I forgot to tell you. A friend of Ava’s arrived while—”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

I shut my mouth. There’s a weird vibe in the tiny room. Like he’s taking up all the air and my brain is not doing so great. I don’t know. He’s just this huge smoking-hot presence towering over me, leaving no room for rational thought. But removing myself from the situation isn’t an option. Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Being alone with him and getting all his attention is a heady thing.

Without a word, he reaches back and pulls his blood-stained tee off over his head. Such a hero maneuver. I would applaud if I had control of my limbs. The way the muscles in his arms flex. It’s almost as good as the revelation of his upper body. Picking a favorite part is impossible. There’s the width of his shoulders and the expanse of all that smooth skin. How my fingers itch to touch.

“We should, um, rinse your shirt to get the blood out,” I say. “That would be the smart thing to do.”

“I like it when you look at me like that.”

“You do?”

He nods.

And I can only assume he means when I look at him like a thirsty wench. Which is kind of him to say. Most men would laugh at the drooling. As much as I would like to be a cool girl,it never quite sticks. But he’s already seen me be a sweaty, babbling mess and I’m still here so…

He doesn’t say another word. Just stands there staring down at me and his focus is absolute. Like nothing else in this moment matters.

It takes me a second. Then it apparently takes several more because I’m in quite a haze. “Connor, are you trying to say you want to have sex with me?”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“We’ve been exclusive in our fakery, haven’t we?” I ask before he can get a word out. “But it’s okay if you want to call one of your sex friends. I trust you not to get caught.”

“I don’t cheat. That’s not who I am.”

“It wouldn’t be cheating.”

“Yeah, but it would feel like it.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

He gives me a long serious look. Then he says, “Let’s get a drink and sit out front.”

“Wait…”

“I haven’t shown you my stars yet. You’re gonna be impressed.”

“You own them?”

“It’s more of a rental situation.”

“Funny. Connor, hold on a second,” I say, trying to get my head around what the fuck just happened. But he’s on the move, marching through the bedroom and into the kitchen.Turning off lights as he goes. He grabs a fresh t-shirt from the closet on his way and tugs it on over his head. Forget about the heavens. There goes my favorite view. “I do mean it. It’s okay if you call someone and disappear for a while.”

“This is the brand you like, right?” He grabs a bottle of Finnriver cider from out of the fridge. “You want a glass and some ice?”

I pause. “No. Just that’s fine.”

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