Page 12 of Make Me Yours
“Enjoying the movie?” he whispered.
“Mm-hmm.” I didn’t trust myself enough to form actual coherent words just then. The room around us had grown dark except for the faint glow of the TV, and the air buzzed with sexual attraction.
He turned my hand over and held it in his, continuing to massage my palms with the pad of his thumb. It was simple and innocent, yet completely fucking turning me on.
Cohen held my palm up and looked at it. “Your hands are tiny.”
My breathing turned shallow and I waited in anticipation for what was building between us, hoping it would advance beyond the just-friends stage.
“This is your life line.” He traced his thumb along the center of my palm, sending a ticklish rush through me. He brought my hand closer to inspect it in the dim light. “And your love line. But it stops abruptly right here.” He tapped near my thumb.
I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Yeah, I swore off the whole commitment thing years ago.”
“Bad experience?” He set my hand down between us.
“Something like that.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I never talked abouthim. Ever. Not even with Ashlyn. Cohen smiled at me sadly, like I was broken. I didn’t want him to feel pity for me. I didn’t want him to feel anything for me, except maybe desire. That wouldn’t be so bad. He picked up my hand again and laced his fingers with mine.
“I’m here if you want to talk.”
“Thanks.” I gave his hand a squeeze. Against my will, I found my mind wandering to my parents’ brutal divorce a few years ago, which was the other part of the story. The part I was more comfortable allowing myself to remember. “My parents had the catastrophe of all divorces during my freshman year of college. They don’t speak at all anymore.”
“Is that the reason you’re a commitment-phobe?”
“It’s part of the reason.”A small part.“What about you? Are your parents still married?”
“I never knew my dad. He took off on my mom when she was pregnant with me. She was only eighteen.”
“Wow. That must have been hard.”
“Yeah, but we managed.” His jaw flexed, and I backed off, sensing he didn’t want to answer questions about his past any more than I did.
Cohen continued to hold my hand throughout the movie and I rested my head on his chest, content with the silence between us.
When the movie ended, he turned it off while I stretched out on his bed.
He looked down at me and smiled. “Tired?”
I nodded.
“I’ve got to take Bob out. I can walk you home, or…”
“Or?” My eyebrow quirked up.
“You could sleep over again.”
I grinned up at him despite my best attempt to act cool and unaffected. “You like having me in your bed, rather than Bob?”
He laughed. “Hell yeah, Easy E. You smell a lot better too.” He leaned down and sniffed my hair. “Yep. Like flowers and sunshine.”
“Your bed is insanely comfortable. Let me just go down and get pajamas while you’re walking Bob.”
“Cool.” He smiled, seemingly happy.
We headed downstairs, and while Cohen took a stroll around the block, I dashed inside and brushed my teeth, set the dishwasher to run overnight and then picked out the perfect pajamas to tempt Cohen.
