Page 37 of Pretend You Love Me
I hear a muffled noise. It sounds like crying, and my stomach drops.
“Ginger, god, I’m sorry. What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?”
She rolls over onto her back - there’s a big smile on her face, and I realize she’s laughing.
“He really got me, didn’t he?” she says. Her hair is everywhere, and she’s staring up at me with those big blue eyes.
I sit down beside her, relieved she’s not hurt.
“Sorry about that. The big dummy doesn’t know his own size.”
“It’s fine,” she says.
“Did he mess up your routine?”
“Oh, I just needed a good stretch. I’m so sore. I thought a little yoga would loosen me up,” she says as she sits up.
It certainly loosened me up, that’s for damned sure.
“I have a frittata in the oven,” she says. I stand up and reach out my hand. As soon as she takes it, I feel a jolt of electricity shoot through me. I think she feels it too because her eyes go wide, and she darts her gaze away quickly. I jerk my hand back and stuff it in my pocket.
“Frittata?”
“Yeah, I just saw you had eggs and some leftover vegetables. I hope that’s okay. I was going to eat it for lunch if you want some.”
“Sounds good. When will it be ready?”I ask.
“About thirty minutes.” She’s wrapping her hair into a high bun on the top of her head. She looks so damn cute; I don’t want to take my eyes off her.
“Come on, Blue,” I yell. “We’ll get out of your hair so you can finish. See you in thirty.”
She doesn’t move until we’re walking into the cabin.
As soon as I shut the door, I lean my head against it and close my eyes. Last night I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes all I could think about was her in that fucking wet dress that left nothing to the imagination.
I tossed and turned for hours until I finally caved and jerked off thinking about peeling that wet dress right off her body. I know I shouldn’t – I hoped it would get it out of my system, and it wouldn’t be an issue today, but I feel like a perv because my dick is standing at attention every time I’m remotely close to her. Like right now. God, you’d think I'd never been with a woman before. It has been a while - a long while, but still.
I storm into the bathroom. I can’t go back over there like this - not with my dick refusing to think of anything but her ass in the air in those tiny shorts. I slam the bathroom door and take care of business again.
When I walk back over to the big house in a half hour, I feel better. More relaxed.
I don’t need to get entangled with this woman. She’s just a walking red flag. She’s running from someone, hiding, in trouble - I don’t know, but she won’t even tell me her real fucking name. I have a history of ignoring red flags, and I will not make that mistake again.
I won’t. No matter how good she looks doing yoga.
Ginger’s cutting into the frittata when I walk into the kitchen. Thank god, she’s put on an oversized sweatshirt, but she’s still wearing those tiny shorts. Her hair is in that adorable messy bun, and somehow my dick is twitching again.
She jerks her head up, and I realize that I’ve just sighed out loud.
“Something wrong?” she says.
Just this permanent, raging boner that I’ve had the last two days, no big deal.
“Nothing,” I mumble as I take a seat at the island. “Smells good.”
A bright smile spreads across her face. “It does, doesn’t it?”
“I love eggs,” she continues as she plates the frittata. “If there’s a food that I would be devastated to give up, it would be eggs.”
