Page 113 of Can't Text This

It’s my butt.

Again.

“Your perviness knows no bounds.”

“You’re not wrong. I knew pool would be a great idea.”

“You brought me here to stare at my bum?”

He leans over the table, lining up a shot, then grinning up at me. “Yes, Monty, I brought you just to stare at yourbum.”

“Quit mocking me.”

“Say ass.” He shoots and misses. “Your turn.”

“No!” I pocket the first two balls of the game. “Stripes or solids?”

“How aboutstripsand”—he glances down at his junk—“this solid.”

I roll my eyes and try my hardest to fight my grin. “Just shoot, Robbie.”

“How about this: I win this game, you strip and get my solid, and if you win, I’ll quit being pervy and actually play.”

“Hmm…tough call, because I do adore your solid.” He tries to cover his laugh with a cough but it’s no use. I know he’s getting a kick out of me calling his erection a solid. The jerk. “But I also haven’t played a game of pool in ages and was looking forward to playing.”

“You’re scared I’ll actually win.”

“You think falling into bed with you scares me?”

“Oh, Monty, I know it does.”

You’d think after the many nights we’ve spent together it wouldn’t scare me anymore, but every time we strip each other down to nothing, I get nervous.

It’s not because Robbie himself scares me, but because I’m terrified of what he’s making me feel so quickly.

We’re supposed to be light and fluffy. I shouldn’t get butterflies every time I’m around him, shouldn’t feel like I have this heavy weight on my shoulders when I’m not.

Yet, I do, and it’s frightening.

Thrilling.

And I can’t say no.

“You have a deal.”

He takes his next shot.

I throw the game.

Nineteen

Monty

Python:I know it’s early, but I just wanted to wish you luck on your first day. You’re going to rock this. I just know it. Text or call when you get the chance.

Python:Oh, and thanks for last night. That new position is what dreams are made of.

Me:Thank you, and you’re welcome.

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