“I need to put you in water,” I say out loud, my fingers finding their way to the base of her neck and then digging deeply into her soft, sunshine hair.
“You…you have a thing for water?” Her eyebrow quirks up at me, and I laugh.
“No, sorry. You just look like a mermaid. I like this,” I say, pulling a few strands of her hair in front of us and holding the waves out for her to see.
“Oh,” she smiles, her face showing her shyness. “Thanks. It’s how I hide being a ninja.”
“Right, good secret identity. No one would suspect a mermaid,” I say, my teeth grazing her neck as I let my smile form against her skin. “You even smell like sunshine. How is that possible?”
When the doors open, she tries to stand, but I keep her firmly in place on my lap and push us forward. This is why I workout so much. Here is the payoff, right here. I can do these two things at once.
We hit the wall a few times on our way to her room, mostly because I can’t seem to get my mouth off of her damn neck. I finally relent and let her get to her feet when we’re at her door, and she drops her keys trying to unlock too quickly.
“Sorry, I’m a bit of a jumble,” she giggles. She really is nervous.
“Relax. I’m not in a race,” I say, reminding my lower region to behave—for now.
She smiles and takes a deep breath before turning her attention back to the door, this time slipping the key in easily and letting us both inside. She drops her purse on her desk and heads to her closet, drawing the door closed almost the entire way, but leaving a small sliver of space where I catch her dress slip from her body and see the curve of her breast. Yep, that’s not helping me keep downstairs in check. My dick is pretty much at full attention now, ready to war with my conscience, which is not in great shape—it doesn’t get a workout much.
Shit.
She comes out in a small white tank top and black cotton shorts. She’s barely wearing anything, and the fabric is so thin, it practically glides over her features.
“I wanted to be comfortable. I hope that’s okay,” she says, sitting down on her bed and folding her legs over one another, like we’re about to play UNO.
“I’m good with comfortable,” I smile, suddenly unsure of my next move. Fuck, maybe we really should play UNO. Looking around, I’m not sure where I fit. Do I sit next to her? Do I just start kissing her and pulling her clothes off? Do I take my shirt off? Or does she just want to talk? I usually don’t care—and, normally, I’ve been at a party…I’ve already had the talk with the girl about how I don’t do girlfriends and shit, and she usually says she’s fine with that, and there’s whiskey, and bad tastes, because sometimes the chick smokes. I hate smoke. And there are hints that I’ll regret sleeping with the girl. But none of that applies here. I am a fish out of water.
“So, are you my girlfriend?” I’m a goddamned fourth grader.
My heart is pounding like I’m a sixty-year-old man on heart medication, and I’m actually sweating. Cass looks right into my eyes; I think she thinks I’m joking at first. But I’m not. I’m actually having a panic attack; it’s getting harder to breathe. Slowly, realization hits her, and her smile follows.
My lungs fill up.
“I’d love to be your girlfriend,” she says, doing that cute thing where she bites her lip and looks at her lap.
I should be over there.
I’m going over there.
I pull myself up and sit next to her on the edge of her bed, then reach down and pull my shoes from my feet. “I wanted to be comfortable, do you mind?” I mimic her from earlier, and it makes her laugh nervously. Her lip goes right back in her teeth, so I scoot closer and touch her mouth softly with my finger, pulling her lip loose.
“I’m going to kiss that, if that’s okay?” I ask, and she nods slowly, her eyes wide and on mine.
I move in, watching her eyes track the movement of my lips toward her. I’ve never paid attention to these little things before, but god do I want to watch everything now. I need one of those out-of-body experiences. When I’m so near I can feel her breath, her eyes close. I finally shut mine too, letting my lips fall into hers.
She was waiting for me. The second my mouth hits hers—all nerves are gone.
I have a girlfriend. This is my girlfriend. This is Cass Owens, and she is my undoing, and I go willingly. Her lips grow hungry. I thread my fingers through her hair until a few of the strands wrap around them, and I tug her head gently backward so I can taste her neck.