Page 32 of Just a Little Crush
Ugh, this isnota conversation I want to have with him. “Yeah, I don’t date.”
“Why not?”
“There’s nobody in this town that I want to date.”Except you.“You’re one to talk. I never see you with anyone either. And what do you mean you’ve never done anything like last night?”
He tips his head back, considering his words while he finishes his mouthful of food. “I like to be in control, and it felt good that you let me do that.”Ooft. So hot.
“I don’t feel like I had much choice,” I tease, taking a bite of my sandwich.
“What?” he says, horrified.
“No, I mean, I liked it. I liked that you took charge. That’s what I like.”
“Stop talking and eat your food.”
The hour before Rennie leaves for his class is awkward as hell. He barely speaks more than two or three words at a time. He shuffles around the house, moving things around with no real purpose. Neither of us mention last night again, and while I watch a film with my ankle propped up, he sits on a stool by the breakfast bar, far from my reach.
I don’t get it. Things seemed good when he left this morning, and I didn’t exactly hate snuggling up with him when he came back to bed. How did we go from him promising me orgasms last night, demanding sexy wishlists this morning, to acting like an old married couple who can’t stand to be around each other?
“What will you do with your evening?” he asks, lacing up his black leather boots.
“Rest, I suppose.”
“Correct answer.”
“Oh, you mean you don’t have the Bridge club coming over to keep me company? There’s no personal chef arranged for this evening?” His stupid, snarky mood is rubbing off on me.
“Do you need some company?” he asks, his voice a little softer.
“No Renn, I’m joking. I’d rather have some time to myself, so I’ll just shut out the lights and read a book in bed.” Of course I don’t tell him it will be a dirty book and I’ll be thinking of him the whole time. I pick up my phone to choose a new one to download.
“My bed,” he says. His voice is closer, and when I look up, he’s towering over me.
“What?”
I freeze when Rennie reaches out, ever so slowly, and strokes his fingers softly across my cheek. At my jaw they coast down my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Stay in my bed. Wait for me to get home.”
“Your bed?” I can barely get the words out when he travels along my collarbone and up to my chin, caressing it as he tilts my face skyward.
“The mattress is better.”
“Ohsure, the mattress is better.“ He slides his fingers higher, squeezing my mouth into a little pout, then blows a kiss into the air between us.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
And then he’s gone.
I sit, staring into the room, wondering what the hell is going on in this man’s head? He’s hot, then cold, then cute and while I don’t hate riding Rollercoaster Rennie, I’m definitely starting to get emotional whiplash.
My fingers find their way to my lips, sure I can feel the imprint of his kiss. I’m ridiculous. He hasn’t even kissed me. Not last night, not this morning, and not right now. My mouth is tingling like he has, though. Like he finally found his way to me, our lips connecting just as I’ve always dreamed they would. But here in the real world, the fact remains that Alistair Rendall has made me come -multiple times- but he still hasn’t kissed me.
Although... that’s not technically true. Rennie and I have shared precisely one kiss, forever and ever ago, and it didn’t really count. I doubt he even remembers. It was a kiss between kids high on hormones, pilfered vodka, and end of school spirits. It was a good kiss, one that I thought about for weeks, but far too short. There was only the slightest bit of tongue, yet I felt seared. I threw up shortly afterwards, but let the record show that it had absolutely nothing to do with the kiss.
The kiss was perfect.
It was everything.
And then Jamie Parker took me home.
