Page 27 of Until We're More
Her mouth dropped open, and her chest rose and fell, that zipper glinting in the light and calling to me. One quick tug would be all it took, and my fingers twitched at my sides, making their vote known.
Did I imagine her leaning closer? Her eyes dilating? I definitely didn’t imagine the way she licked her lips or how her slender neck worked a swallow. My eyes homed in on the pulse beating at the base of her throat, and the desire to put my lips there and take a taste flooded my system, washing away what was left of my common sense.
Her phone chimed, and she jumped, her wine sloshing over the rim of her cup. “Oops.” She slowly licked the rim, and my cock twitched. “I should’ve known better than to drink wine on someone else’s couch.”
I wanted to tell her to forget the wine, yank her closer, and kiss the hell out of her, but she reached for her phone, the moment broken. If it’d even been there in the first place.
Shit.“I’ll grab a towel.”And get myself under control. Again.
When I reached inside the hall closet for a towel, I noticed the pile of clothes on the floor of her bedroom. The outfit she’d been wearing today and a lacy pink bra sat on the top.
She’s not wearing a bra. I could yank down that zipper and get my hands on those breasts…I let my foreheadthunkagainst the wall. So much for getting myself under control. One of my points of pride had always included being in control. Not letting myself be led by whims. It was what made me a great fighter and why I could handle the stress of the gym and ensuring my family and the other fighters were taken care of. I didn’t need anything else.
But man did I want something else right now.
I expelled another breath and walked back out to the living room. I tossed her the towel and averted my eyes when she wiped high on her thigh.
Okay, I made it a few seconds of averting my eyes. But when she drew up her knee to wipe the spot underneath her, I caught a glimpse of pink panties that matched the discarded bra at the foot of her bed, and then I was thinking about her legs and her underwear and that zipper on her hoodie again.
“So, guess who that was.”
My brain struggled to catch on to what she was saying, even more so than usual.
“Who sent the text?” she added.
Oh yeah. That fucking chime that ruined everything.
Or saved me from doing something stupid.
“Kevin.”
Man, I fucking hated Kevin right now. You try to do the right thing and it comes back to bite you in the ass.
Chelsea picked up her phone and stared at the screen. “Help me figure out what to say to him.”
“Sure, if you wanna crash and burn, that’s a great idea.” I rounded the couch and settled into my former spot. In good news, my hard-on was definitely gone.
Chapter Eleven
Chelsea
I stared at Kevin’s text. The text that had saved me from reading too much into Liam’s dismay over the idea of my hair being anything but red. My insides had gone all warm and squishy when he’d told me it’d be a shame to cover my fiery strands, and then I’d gotten carried away, thinking that his answering a question meant he was…feeling more than he was, that was for sure.
Saved by the chime. A text from a guy I actually had a chance with. It would’ve been nice if it hadn’t also made me spill my wine, but Liam didn’t seem too concerned about his couch, and luckily it’d mostly landed on me.Another pair of pajamas stained by wine.It was sorta embarrassing how many of those I had.
Since Liam wasn’t offering any sage words of advice—stare until they ask you outdidn’t exactly work via text, anyway—I began typing a response to Kevin about how I was glad he’d texted, and I added a few sentences about the series we’d discussed and made a suggestion about a different series I thought he might like, and then I stared at the giant chunk of text.
“Shit. I can’t send this. I was being completely serious when I said I need help.”
Liam glanced away from the TV show that suddenly held all his interest, and I quickly deleted the text.
“Great, now he’s probably been looking at the three dots, waiting to see what I’m going to say, and if I don’t send something soon it’s going to look like I overthought it.”
“You?” Liam managed to pack a whole lot of sarcasm into the word. “Overthinking things?”
I kicked his thigh with my foot. “Not. Helping. I could use an editor, because people need eased into the verbal-explosion thing I do.”
“Maybe stupid people,” Liam muttered.
