Page 42 of Faking It with the Forward

She blinks, managing to both look away and stare at my chest at the same time. She looks like she may have a stroke just from seeing my upper body.

“Did it work?” I ask, because yeah, I’m vain. I work my ass off to keep in top shape. But there’s a little vindication that after making it clear she wasn’t into jocks, Twyler likes my body.

“No.”

Liar.

If this is how she reacts to my upper body… “Unless you want to see my junk, maybe turn around,” I say in warning.

“Oh, right.” She spins, facing the wall, and I drop my pants and grab a pair of shorts from the top dresser drawer.

Pulling them on, I say, “You’re in the clear.”

She’s slow to turn, peering at me with those big eyes. I head to the bathroom and smear toothpaste on my toothbrush. I point to a drawer. “If you want, there’s an extra toothbrush in there. T-shirts are in the top drawer of the dresser.” My eyes drag over the sweatshirt she’s been wearing like a dress all night and our eyes meet in the mirror. “Or you can keep that on.”

She watches me go through my routine and as I’m walking out and dropping onto the chair. It’s not uncomfortable, just a little small for my frame. There are no arms to hold me in, but I can manage. One of the skills learned from years of travel hockey is how to sleep anywhere.

“Do you do this a lot?” she asks, still standing by the bed. “Have to offer girls toothbrushes and clothes?”

I snort and drag the blanket up to my waist. “Their mouths are usually too occupied, Sunshine, to worry about a toothbrush.”

Her nose wrinkles and her cheeks move past pink to flaming red. Her glare is intense. “You’re doing it again. Trying to embarrass me.”

I lean back and arrange my pillow. “Wrong. Most girls that come up here with me have their clothes off before we cross the threshold. None stay long enough to stay the night. I’m not trying to be a dick. It’s just the truth.”

She watches me closely for a minute, then enters the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. I hear the water run, and the sound of her brushing her teeth. I don’t know if Twyler is a virgin or not. She obviously has had a boyfriend, and despite her arguments otherwise, she’s a pretty fantastic kisser. But kissing and fucking are pretty far apart.

I’m still thinking about it when she emerges from the bathroom, still wearing my sweatshirt. Then there’s the bundle in her hands—another look down her legs and it’s clear what she’s holding. Her joggers. Fuck me.

I drag my eyes away from the lure of her pussy, but not before I see the flash of ink on her upper thigh. A tattoo?

Hell, I want to see it.

Just the sight of her climbing into bed wearing my shirt and no pants, does something to my insides. My cock? It raises a flag, like it wants to stake a claim.Mine.

But from my chair across the room, I know this girl isn’t mine to claim. Not in any real sense. I understand better what Nadia meant by her being vulnerable and not having men to count on. That fucking sucks about her dad, and I wish I’d been there when it happened to support her.

What I can do, is not fuck this up, and support her now.

I reach for the switch on the lamp on my desk. “Night, Sunshine,” I say, turning off the light.

Across the room, I hear her sigh at the nickname and after a beat, she replies, “Goodnight, Reese.”

13

Twyler

I can’t sleep.

Not in Reese’s bed that smells so good. Not knowing he’s shirtless and asleep in the chair across the room. Not after feeling his erection jamming into my ass when he pulled me into his lap downstairs, and definitely not after seeing his perfect torso. Christ on a cracker, I wanted to touch him.

Nope. My whole body is too warm. I already stripped off Reese’s heavy sweatshirt trying to cool off but nothing—

“Son of a—"

The curse hits my ears before the crash does, the loud bang and clatter cutting through the dark of night. It sends a jolt to my heart, and thrusts me upward, sheet clasped between my hands. Then I hear a groan.

“Reese?” I whisper.

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