Page 69 of Jace
“I don’t care what you wear, it’s you I like.”
Oh damn. I bite my lip at that, getting all fucking fuzzy inside. “Good that I like you too, then.”
He smiles. I smile. We all fucking smile.
“Beer?” I ask finally, croakily, focusing back on the fridge.
“Nah. I'm good.” His voice is just as rough as mine. “Gonna give me a tour?” He flicks his dimples at me, looking mighty confident and mighty sure of himself, which is such a mind fuck because I've expected him to get all panicky because of this.
But he’s not, and as long as he isn’t…
I shut the door again and nod to the hallway beside the kitchen. “Lead the way; the second door on the left is mine.”
“Hmm. First door is Missy’s?”
“Unfortunately, yes. That’s the reason why I’m fleeing to your place so much. Very thin walls.” I follow him into my modest room, where he proceeds to eye my bed like it’s a sacred sort of thing.
Which it is. Duh.
“Isn't any better when they're at my place, trust me,” he says simply before he proceeds to kick off his shoes and socks. When he's done, he starts on the buttons of his shirt, giving me that stupid smirk as he does.
“Whatcha doin?” I'm not ashamed that my voice comes out shrill. I grab the top of my door frame and clench my hands in the wood just to keep myself from rushing over and tackling him to my bed.
“I’m getting ready for bed.”
My heart fucking explodes. “You what?”
“Bed?” He nods at my small two-person bed. “You know, that gray blanketed thing over there in the corner? It's for sleeping, right?”
“Don't get all wise-ass on me now.”
“Why not? I thought you liked asses?” He takes his shirt off and puts it over the back of my desk chair.
And I just can't. I've been with men before. I've been with taller men and shorter men and skinnier men.
But I've never been with a man who looks like he should be on the cover of Men's Illustrated for crying out loud.
For all I know he's actually been on that cover, by the way. If so, I want a copy.
I groan skywards, still holding on for dear life and willing my dick not to fucking get hard because I don't know if it would still hurt like a bitch.
Stupid fucker's gaze lingers on my arms now, before he bites his lip and just gets his hat and pants off, placing them with the rest. He throws the covers open and gets in like he owns the damn place, in only his fucking tight boxers, which gave me a view of a very nice ass. Yes, to answer his question, I very much like asses.
One ass in particular.
“You gonna get in or what?” he asks when he puts his big arms behind his neck and proceeds to chill like the king he is.
It takes me about thirty seconds to shut the door, flick out the light, get out of my clothes, and snuggle in next to him.
He’s so fucking warm. And big. And I totally dig it.
“Why are you not freaking out? I'm waiting for the confusion to hit in, actually,” I say when I'm settled in next to him, propped up on one elbow. My other hand is on his abs because fucking duh, Ineedto feel that.
And it for sure doesn’t disappoint.
And he just smiles as I pet him, I can feel him practically purring because of it.
“Yeah, did that part last week actually.”
