Page 35 of Playing it Country

He turns, slowly, and then braces his hands on the island in front of him, and I’d bet my last dollar he’s trying to hide how turned on he is.

“Is it so bad I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman?”

“By telling me to put clothes on?”

“I’m trying not to ogle my roommate.”

“I know; you’re such a killjoy.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Why not? You know we’d have fun.”

“And then what? Someone gets attached and then it’s awkward with us livin’ together, and it’s just an unnecessary hassle when we could easily just avoid it.”

I smirk. “So are you sayin’ you’d get attached, Case? Think my pussy is magic?”

“I think you’re tryin’ to mess with my head and it won’t work.”

“The only head I want to be messing with is…” I go up on my tiptoes and act like I’m trying to peek over the island to see his cock. His lips twitch but he doesn’t give me any more to work with.

“Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?”

“You’re right. I have a date with a five-mile jog before the sun melts me into the pavement.” Whipping off my tank top, I throw it at his face and make my way toward the door without looking back.

I can hear him cursing under his breath, and I smile knowing I sprayed my shirt with a little perfume for that exact purpose.

After stretching in the early morning sun, I pop in my earbuds and let my feet carry me away from the house. A smile tugs at my lips at the memory of Case’s gaze sweeping over me in the kitchen. It was barely a moment in time, but I felt the heat and the unbridled need in that single glance.

I want more—so much more.

Realistically, I shouldn’t push him so hard, but I’m starting to hate this back and forth that has me so worked up with no real relief in sight. It’s a problem.

He’sa problem.

My shoes pound the road beneath me as “Timber” by Pitbull and Ke$ha gives me the motivation to put one foot in front of the other. I’m so in my head with the music and thoughts of Case that it barely registers when I find myself back in front of the house.

Case’s truck is gone, and my good mood wavers. It’s quiet inside, and a note on the counter says he had to go help Montana and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. After showering and eating a yogurt from the fridge, I can’t take it anymore and shoot off a text.

HANNAH: Are you mad at me?

CASE: No why?

HANNAH: You just left

CASE: Didn’t you see the note?

HANNAH: Yes

CASE: …

HANNAH: …

HANNAH: I’m being weird

CASE: I got that—everything is fine. Montana is a moron—honestly I have no idea how this guy makes any money with the amount of time we spend here

CASE: I’ll be home late. Maybe you should call the girls?

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