Page 61 of Casita Casanova
“Trying to deter me.” His gaze drops down again, and even through my nightgown, I can feel the blaze of that look in his eyes as they trail down the length of me. “It’s why you’re wearing that thing.”
I swallow hard. Does he read minds? Because that superpoweron topof his good looks and his ability to discombobulate women with a simple smile would be averyunfair combination.
“Here’s the thing, Maryn…”
Sipping my coffee, I look at him over the lip of my mug, waiting.
“It’s not working.”
I swallow hard.
He smirks, then sets his coffee down, resting his hands on the edge of the counter. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I didn’t either.”
“I’m sorry I left you like that.”
Running my tongue over my teeth, I drop my gaze, careful not to let it catch on those eight-pack abs because I might change my mind about what I’m about to say. “I’m going to order a microwave and hot plate for you. And a coffeepot.”
“Maryn.”
“The mini fridge will arrive today, I think.”
With my focus on the ground at his feet, I see when he pushes off the counter and steps toward me.
“Don’t do that.”
I breathe in through my nose and his scent assaults me. But I can’t let it render me stupid. Which is also why I can’t look up into his eyes. Forty-eight hours in my life and he already holds all the power. “I think it would be best of we were just friends.”
“We have been.”
“No, I mean…” I breathe deeply, closing my eyes. My heart pounds away at my ribs. My palms are clammy. There’s a throb building between my legs at his scent and his closeness.
My desire for him is the problem.
I can’t act on it and I can’t ignore it, so where does that leave me?
“Maryn, look at me.”
Gathering all of my strength, I tilt my head up and meet his gaze.
“Don’t do this.”
“It’s for the best.”
“You don’t want me? Is that what I’m supposed to believe?”
I nod.
Cas shakes his head. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“You’re renting my casita. We’re neighbors. That’s it.”
“Maybe I like to fuck my neighbors.”
I suck in a breath. The message is clear and the tone in his voice leaves nothing to the imagination. I should be offended by his crass statement. The fact that I’m not, the fact that heat continues to pool between my legs from that dark look in his eyes, is the problem. Weakened by his close proximity, I let my gaze travel down to his mouth, his full lips are a soft shade of rose. His tongue slips out to brush over the bottom one, so I drop my gaze lower.
Bad idea.
