Page 38 of The Good Girl (Nashville Neighborhood)

“Yes.” I gave him the same reasoning I’d given to anyone else I’d brought up here. “But it’s their house. I have to follow their rules.”

His gaze swept over the space, taking in the room that was just large enough to contain a full-sized bed, an end table and dresser, and a closet that was so packed with clothes, I hadn’t been able to shut the sliding door for years.

I’d tried to tidy up my bedroom before he came over, but even with the bed made and the never-ending laundry from work put away, it still looked messy. His focus went back to the door that stood wide open.

“Maybe we should go back to my place,” he offered.

I sucked in a breath. On the one hand, I wanted to be alone with him, where no one would interrupt us. But on the other . . . “Are you worried about us getting caught?”

My question caught him off guard. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but,” my voice was hushed, “is it weird if I find the idea kind of exciting?”

Messing around with any boy in my room was dangerous, but with him? It would be flirting with disaster. When my parents caught Colin having sex, they’d kicked him out of the house.

So, the stakes were high, and yet I longed to do it. I wanted it almost as badly as I wanted Preston, and nervous, eager energy fluttered inside me.

I’d told him I thought the danger was exciting, and his grin was slow and sexy. “Oh, you do?”

The heat radiating from him was so strong, all I could do was nod.

He surveyed the room with fresh eyes and seemed to change his mind about leaving when his focus zeroed in on the full-length mirror by the closet. It was a cheap one I’d bought for my dorm room that came home with me each summer. So, it wasn’t mounted to anything right now. Instead, it leaned against the corner of the open closet door, giving us an angle of the far side of the bed.

He strolled toward it, only to slow when his attention snagged on the pinboard hanging above the dresser. What was he looking at? One side of the board was dry-erase, and I’d scribbled some menu ideas on it. The other side had random items pinned in a haphazard fashion. A ‘save the date’ card for my cousin’s wedding. An old pamphlet I’d gotten from the Culinary Institute of America. A picture of me with Colin last year at his graduation ceremony—

Shit.

Was Preston remembering how we were going behind my brother’s back? I needed to keep him from thinking about it.

“You want to watch a movie?” I asked quickly. “I’ve got Netflix on my laptop.”

“No.” His tone was cryptic as he resumed moving. He rounded the end of the bed, and sat on the pale gray bedspread, facing the mirror so I could see his expression. Like his tone, it was unreadable. “Come here.”

The intense stare he gave me was no less powerful when it was reflected through the mirror. It made the air in the room go thin, and my blood heat. I swallowed thickly and put one foot in front of the other, bringing myself to stand in front of him.

It wasn’t hard to read his expression now.

Desire teemed in his eyes, and he stretched out a hand, grazing it over my legs as he played with the ruffle at the hem of my skirt.

“I meant to tell you,” smoke filled his voice, “how hot you look in this dress.” His hand slipped under the edge of the fabric, and the backs of his fingers ghosted across the bare skin of my thighs. “You knew what you were doing when you put it on, didn’t you? You wanted to look like a cocktease.”

My lips fell open, but only so I could draw in a sharp breath. I had worn the sundress because I thought it was cute and I’d hoped he’d like it, but this reaction . . .

God, it was so much better.

“I can practically see your tits through it.” He wasn’t scolding me—he was thrilled I’d opted not to wear a bra. He was damn near drooling as he stared up at me. “It makes me want to touch them.”

The softest sigh escaped my lips, but he heard it loud and clear. His fingers slipped between my knees and glided up the inside of my thigh at a painfully slow pace. I got the impression his teasing touch was payback for how my dress had teased him.

It was instinctive the way my gaze flicked to the open bedroom door, checking to see if anyone was there. It was unnecessary because I’d hear anyone coming up the stairs, but—

Better safe than sorry.

His palm inched up, nearly to my underwear, only to stroke back down disappointingly toward my knee. It made me shudder with anticipation and longing, and perhaps the tiniest bit of frustration. I was impatient, ready to do more, and although he’d barely touched me, I was already on fucking fire.

Up he stroked a second time, his fingers tracing a line across my sensitized skin. In response, my knees wobbled. It made it so hard to stand.

His smile only reached his eyes. “You want to sit down?”

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