Page 54 of What's Left of Us

He walks over, using his finger to turn my head back to him. “I like it when you watch me.”

I peek up at him through my lashes.

“Did you enjoy the show outside?”

How did he know I was watching him?

His eyes darken the way they do before clothes start coming off, and my heart picks up, nearly pounding out of my chest. “I always know when you’re looking, Georgia,” he says, reading my mind.

God, that’s…dangerous.

The fingers on my chin move upward to brush hair behind my ear, the path of his touch igniting a familiar fire in my stomach that he always creates.

He asks, “What’s your favorite color?”

It’s an odd question. “Why?”

“You always wear green,” he notes, hooking his finger in the neckline of the hunter green shirt and tugging on it until my tan bra peeks out. His finger lingers just above the curve of my breast.

“I like it.”

I’m not sure what he’s talking about anymore. The shirt? Or what’s underneath?

I stare down at his hand, silently willing him to cup me like he does at night when we’re cuddling in bed. He’ll turn me onto my side, pull me into him, and wrap his arm around my waist, resting his hand around one of my breasts before falling asleep. I’ve gotten used to the strange sleeping position over the weekends. “I’m not sure what it is. It used to be purple. It changes with my mood.”

A thoughtful noise comes from him. “What is your mood today?”

I don’t hesitate. “Contentment.”

Half of his lips quirk up.

I ask, “What’s your favorite color?”

His eyes flicker across my face before his lips form a secretive smile. “Amber.”

I don’t have time to process that when he says, “Come on.” Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to my temple before stepping away. “My parents are doing pizza at their place.”

“And we’re going? Like…together?”

Amusement lightens his face. “If we stay here, we’re going to be naked until I have no choice but to go back to the academy,” he informs me, lust heavy in his tone. “I figured I’d give you, and your body, a break. And my mom makes really good pizza. You’ll love it.”

He’s inviting me to his parents’ house. He’s never made it seem like he wanted me around his family whenever he’d go visit them. Since he never asks me to tag along, I never ask to go. I’d find myself at the public library, reading books in their quiet nook or using their computer to find job listings online. Or doing the occasional social media stalking to see how people have moved on with their lives without me.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he questions casually, his eyes tracking my fidgety movements.

“I wouldn’t want them to get the wrong impression of us.”

“And what impression is that, Georgia?” He leans down, crowding my space. His fingers go to my hair, playing with the ends before trailing them up, up, up until they’re on my face.

I suck in a breath, unable to think straight as those fingertips dance along my cheekbone and down to my jaw, where they start getting closer and closer to my mouth. He’s not playing fair right now.

“That we’re…” I swallow when his index finger starts tracing my bottom lip. “That we’re more than friends.”

His finger stops at the corner of my mouth. “I don’t fuck my friends, sweetheart.”

His blunt statement has me blowing out a short breath as I try to calm my heartbeat. “Are you really telling me you’ve never had friends with benefits before?”

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