Page 13 of Sticking Around

She eyes me, a careful assessment and I try not to shift, because yeah, I think I’ve said too much. I’m not sure why. There’s no full moon out there. Could it be because I’m comfortable with her? If that’s the case, I’d better watch myself. This can’t go anywhere.

“It’s so weird,” she admits.

“What is?” I touch her cheek as she continues to study me, as if seeing me in a different light all of a sudden. “Do I have ketchup on my face or something?”

“No, it’s just… I guess I just pictured you having a different upbringing. I mean you played for Scotia Academy, in Halifax, Nova Scotia, right?”

I nod. “How did you know that?”

“Brighton told me.”

“Talking about me, were you?” I tease.

She rolls her eyes and makes a pfft, sound, but it does little to crush my ego, considering I don’t have one. She’d probably be surprised to learn that. “Yeah, now that I think about it, I overheard it.”

I grin. “Okay, let’s get back to your point. I went to Scotia Academy, so what?”

“I don’t know. I guess it was kind of wrong of me to make assumptions, but a private school for hockey, then the NHL.”

“Ah, I get it. You think I was born with a silver spoon.” She shrugs, but the answer is in her eyes. “I was born with silver all right, but it was a fishing lure, and you’d find it in a cod’s mouth, not mine.”

She chuckles at that and before she can ask any more questions, I stretch out my arms. “I should get you to bed and get back to my own. I refuse to be the reason you’re too tired to study tomorrow.”

She chuckles lightly. “If you were, I wouldn’t be mad.”

My cock instantly thickens at the warm neediness in her voice. Dammit, I’m suddenly needy too and I can’t help but think we’re both in need of touch because of those painful memories we revisited.

I shift to see her and she lifts her head. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Her grin is warm and seductive. “If you think I’m saying the fish you bought was good, but I’d rather taste my ‘Coddy,’ then yes.”

Leave, Brady.

One working brain cell kicks in. “Wait.” I pinch the bridge of my nose before that braincell can find its way out. “You said, we probably shouldn’t do this again.”

She crinkles up her nose, and her hand lands on my thigh. Every muscle in my body reacts to her soft touch. “I did, didn’t I?” She turns contemplative. “I said probably, and probably means in all likelihood, but I think there’s a little wiggle room there, right?”

“Are you trying to say you’re going to wiggle for me, Lanie?”

“Would you like that?”

“Fuck yeah.”

She laughs and there’s a new kind of warmth about her this evening. Perhaps it’s because we’re tired, everything about us less frenzied. “How about one more for the road, Coddy?”

Before I can answer—and obviously I’m going to agree, because hey, I’m a man, and I like this woman—she pushes to her feet, and gives an exaggerated swish of her hips as she saunters away. While nearly every bone in my body is encouraging me to run the other way, there is only one bone in charge at the moment, and it’s honing its coordinates in on the sexy woman luring me back to her bed.

I stand, leaving our plates on the coffee table to clean later, flick off the TV and follow her down the hall. I find her standing beside the bed, her lingerie on the floor. Her shoulders are tight, like she’s remembering the seductress in that bed earlier and thinking that’s how I like my women. Goddammit, she’s so fucking wrong.

“Hey.”

She spins to face me, and my heart tightens at the uncertainty on her face as shaky fingers work to smooth out her hair. Fuck, she’s the most desirable woman I’ve ever met, and never has to feel uncertain around me.

“You are so fucking sexy.” Her gaze drops to the discarded lingerie again. “Look at me.” Her head jerks up and I close the distance between us, sliding my hand around her hips and tugging her body to mine. Her pelvis presses against my cock and this time I wiggle to show her exactly what she does to me, especially when she’s dressed in her frayed shorts and T-shirt. I love the realness about her, but I don’t tell her that. She wants to live a fantasy with me—that’s what I am to all girls—and I like her, so I plan to give it to her.

I find her mouth and my kisses are less hurried this time. Her moan is soft, and the warmth in her tone wraps around me, tugging tight. Jesus, I like this woman, and to think I nearly poked her earlier. Well, I kind of did poke her and plan to do it again.

I slide my hands under her shirt and she lifts her arms, making it easier for me to discard it. I drop to my knees and tug down her shorts, pressing soft kisses to her quivering flesh. Once I have her naked, I drink her in, and lift my gaze to hers, to find her staring intently, her eyes brimming with need.

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