Page 17 of Under My Skin
A hint of a smile pulls at his lips, and I do my best to ignore the flip my stomach does at the sight. Since when does a smile from Everett make my stomach flip? Since when does a smile fromanyonehave that effect on me? Strangers far enough away on the street, sure. Celebrities in magazines, yeah sometimes. But someonethis close?Who I actually know? I’m close enough to seeEverett’s flaws, but right now, I can’t find them. I’m too busy staring at the dark lines creeping up the back of his neck. I can’t tell what they connect to, but the lines seem to take on a meaning of their own. That meaning being: somewhere along the way, Everett Meyers became really fucking hot. The way he was just looking up at me . . . while practically kneeling at my feet? I swallow at the thought.
“I like them,” he says, and it takes me a moment to remember we’re standing in the middle of my brother’s apartment and not at an inn with only one bed.
“Like what?” I fidget with the towel, desperate for my brain to return to normal.
He offers me the panties. “The pineapples.”
“On my underwear?” I tilt my head and scrunch my nose slightly as I pull them from his grip. Okay, all the thoughts I’ve had about him tonight have been weird, but he knows how weird that sounded, right? He has to know.
“Or just in general. Anywhere, really.”
I try to suppress a laugh. “Right.”
He winces and points over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’m going to walk back over there and pretend this never happened.”
“Probably a good idea,” I say, letting some of that laughter escape with my words. Pointing my thumb over my shoulder, I add, “I’m going to go put my clothes on now.”
He shoots me a playful glare for mimicking him as he walks backward, and I quickly turn on my heels and head back into the bathroom before I have the chance to notice how endearing it is.
Okay, maybe I notice a little.
Chapter Ten
EVERETT
I like pineapples?If I wasn’t worried she’d hear me through the bathroom door, I’d groan and let my head fall on the counter. Did I just flirt with Lucy? Poorly? I knew I was rusty, butpineapples?
I run my hand through my hair and try to refocus on the text I was sending a client. Leaning against the counter, I let my eyes bore into my phone. My half-written message might as well be in a different language, though. All I can think of is the way Lucy looked when she walked out here. Wet hair, bare shoulders, wearing nothing but a towel that barely covered her.
Jesus Christ.
I wasn’t thinking about her this way when she came into the shop tonight. Is this really how desperate I am? I see a girl in a towel, and I can’t function?
Maybe Simon is right. Maybe I do need to get laid.
Images of a steam-filled bathroom and a very naked Lucy flood my mind. Her sitting on the counter, legs spread open. The way she’d feel and taste. The sounds she’d make when I’d?—
No.
If I need to blow off some steam, it’s one thing. But not with Lucy.
Simon’s. Little. Sister.
That’s all she is. That’s all she’s been. And that’s all she’ll ever be.
The front door opens, and Simon walks in with bags of Chinese takeout. He nods to me. “Hey, I got you General Tso’s Chicken. You’re welcome.”
“Thanks,” I say while trying to hide my guilt and reaching for one of the bags.
Simon’s. Little. Sister.
“Hey, you didn’t mention Lucy was staying with us,” I say as casually as I can manage.
Stopping in his tracks, he says, “Yes, I did. We literally had this conversation earlier.”
“You said she was coming into town, but I had no idea she was staying here. Where’s she going to sleep?”
Simon looks up like he’s trying to recall our conversation this afternoon. “Oh. Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Looking back at me, he says, “Hey, Lucy is going to crash on our couch while she’s here. Hope that’s cool.” Walking toward the counter with the bags, he adds, “Just be glad I didn’t give her your bed.”
