Page 13 of Hot for Her
“So…” I began, tapping my fingers on the table and trying to think of PG ways to spend the time while her phone charged. “You an art history major at Southeastern?”
Her smile was small but appreciative. “Just art.”
I nodded, jerking my chin toward her hands. There were small smears of what looked like paint stains on them. “Paint? I should’ve figured.”
She glanced at her hands, looking embarrassed. “It’s actually dye from some cloth and clay. I had a mixed-mediums assignment due yesterday.”
“Cool. Could I see some of your work sometime?”
She folded her bottom lip in while inhaling. “My final project will be in the student showcase after finals. I haven’t started on it yet. Trying to find inspiration, I guess. ”
“I’ll have to go by and check it out.”
Silence stretched thick and suffocating between us.
I wanted to do what I normally did in these types of situations. Lift her sexy ass up on the counter and spread her legs, getting myself in between them as quickly as possible.
But this was different for multiple reasons.
I didn’t bring women into the Airstream, much less fuck them in here. I also didn’t want to screw up and scare her off. It was a miracle she was here to begin with.
She’d appeared like an apparition and I’d been half-stunned ever since.
“You want a beer or a bottle of water or something?”
“Water is good.”
I retrieved one from the fridge for each of us, handing over hers before opening mine.
“Sorry there’s no television out here. I mostly come out here to study and chill, minus the Netflix. Wi-Fi doesn’t extend well this far from the house anyway.”
Her full lips drew my attention as she spoke. “I’m not really much of a TV person. Between school, work, and running my brother to and from practice and games, I’d never be able to keep up with anything.”
“Hence the beauty of Netflix. You can binge watch an entire season of a show in one night.”
She responded with a half-smile. “I’m usually too tired to miss out on precious sleep for anyone or anything. Binge-worthy shows included.”
I hoped this meant she wasn’t currently dating someone.
“So no boyfriend going to stomp up in here in a jealous rage?”
She gave me a small shake of her head. “Definitely not. I can’t remember the last time I had a boyfriend.” She took a sip of her water. “No, wait. That’s not true. Tenth grade. Eddie Mayfield. He felt me up under the bleachers after a basketball game.” Her eyes widened as soon as the words were out. “I have no idea why I just told you that.”
I laughed, letting the tension relax and exist peacefully between us. “Well, Eddie Mayfield’s loss.”
She focused on her water. “My friend Drew is always telling me I need to take chances. Get out there and live a little. But look where that got me tonight.”
Fuck it. I stepped forward, entering her personal space as if I owned it. I braced my hands on the countertop on either side of her.
“I’m not complaining about where it got you tonight. Is it terrible that I’m happy you’re here?”
I waited for her response without breathing.
Her eyes flashed to mine and I saw it—lust, longing, wild, animalistic need that matched my own. Finally. I was starting to worry she was a robot sent here to destroy me.
“It’s not terrible,” her delicate voice answered. “Is it terrible that I was jealous of Tenzie or Kenzie or whoever in there?”
I shook my head, openly watching her mouth now. “Tell me why you were jealous.”
