It Was You (15 page)

I shook my head. “I'm good.”

He shrugged, set the beer on the table, grabbed a cup from the cabinet, filled  it with ice and water, then set it in front of me. “That's the only other thing I've got.”

“
It works.”

He sat down across from me and held up the beer bottle. “To?” he asked, proposing a toast.

I held up the cup. “To not getting sick from your cooking.”

He laughed and touched the bottle to the cup.

And after one bite, I knew there was no chance I was going to get sick from his cooking. He knew what he was doing. He cooked better than I could. First the cookies, now dinner. I was wondering what he couldn't do well.

We talked easily over dinner, talking about our classes and my trip with Tana. I stayed away from anything to do with Kayla or my family, still resolved to not tell him about Annika. I asked him a few questions about baseball and he answered. He stayed away from a lot of specifics, but I couldn't complain because I was doing the same thing.

But it made me wonder.

When we finished, I helped him clear the table, stacking them inside the rusted dishwasher in the kitchen. I'd just brought the last of the dishes into the kitchen when the front door opened.

Griffin poked his head into the kitchen. “You ate dinner without me?”

West shot him a look. “Aren't you supposed to be gone? Like, for the rest of the night?”

I bit back a smile. Apparently, he'd made it clear to his roommate to disappear for the evening.

“
Don't be a hater, man,” Griffin said, grinning. “Just needed to grab a couple things.”

He nodded a hello at me before continuing down the hall to his bedroom.

West finished wiping down the counter and tossed the dishcloth into the sink. He turned toward me and leaned against the counter.

“
So, Abby Sellers.” His eyes roved over me. “Now what?”

I shivered and thought about what I was wearing underneath my little black dress. I wondered if he knew, if he had any clue.

“I don't know,” I said. “What do you want to do?”

A slow, knowing smile curved on to his lips. “Oh, I know what I want to do. But it's probably not what we should do.”

He pushed off the counter and pulled on the refrigerator handle. He reached inside and grabbed another beer. “Sure you don't want one?”

I hesitated. Maybe I should. Maybe I needed one.

“Maybe I will,” I said.

He nodded and pulled two bottles out. He twisted the cap off of one and handed it to me and then led me back to the living room.

“Wanna sit out here?” he asked. “Or my room?”

I took a small sip of my beer. “I don't care.”

“Let's start here,” he said. “We can always move. Later.”

My skin tingled with anticipation and I swallowed another mouthful of beer.

He sat down on the futon couch and pulled me down next to him. Beer splashed out of my bottle, drops landing on my hand and on the couch. I started to apologize but he cut me off.

“
Plenty of worse shit has spilled on this thing. Trust me.” He grabbed my wet hand and pulled it to his mouth. Like the night at the beach, he lifted my finger and sucked on it, his tongue tracing circles on my skin.

“
Mmm. Beer tastes good on you.” He leaned in and kissed me on the mouth. “And in you.”

“
Still here,” Griffin said loudly.

I glanced toward the hall. Griffin was there, shielding his eyes.

“Not looking, not looking,” he chanted.

“
Jesus Christ,” West muttered.

“
Stop,” Griffin said. “I know you worship me but this God syndrome has to stop.”

“
Just ignore him and he'll go away,” West said.

“
Great. And now I'm invisible.”

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

Griffin lowered his hands, revealing a smile. “See, your woman thinks I'm funny.”

“
My woman thinks you need to get the hell out of here,” West said. He leveled his eyes on me, those eyes that made me go absolutely weak in the knees. “Right?”

“
Uh, right,” I managed to say. He'd called me his woman. And it didn't sound barbaric or chauvinistic or anything derogatory. It sounded possessive. And I wanted to be possessed. By him.

Griffin saluted. “Yes, ma'am. I'm outta here.”

And, just like that, he was gone.

“
Now, where were we?” West asked, pulling me closer to him.

“
I think we were right about here,” I said. I touched my lips to his, flicked my tongue and he moaned. He threaded his free hand through my hair and pressed his fingers against my scalp, bringing me closer.

“
Good God, I want you,” he breathed when we finally came up for air.

I wanted him, too. Every nerve inside of me was on fire with desire. He lifted his hand from my hair and moved it to my thigh. My dress didn't provide a single barrier and his fingers inched upward, caressing my skin. I swallowed a moan and leaned into him, wiggling my body into position.

“Touch me,” he whispered. “Touch me back.”

I put my hand on his leg, marveling at the feel of the tight muscles and wiry hair. I moved my hand up his thigh, maneuvering under the hem of his shorts. West took a sharp breath as I moved my hand closer. His fingers slid inside of my panties just as I closed my hand over him and we both gasped.

I jerked back and my beer slipped out of my hands.

And all over the both of us.

“Oh, shit,” I said, the liquid immediately dousing every flicker of desire coursing through me. I felt my cheeks flame. “I am so sorry.”

West was in the process of stripping off his soaked shirt so I couldn't see his expression and, for one horrified moment, I wondered if he was pissed. He lifted it over his head, revealing an amused smile and I immediately relaxed.

“You know, I would have taken your clothes off eventually,” he said to me, grinning.

“
What?”

He motioned to my dress. “You're gonna need to take that off now, aren't you? You didn't have to spill your beer in order to get naked with me.”

I swatted his arm and my hand nearly bounced off his bicep. “Shut up. I didn't do it on purpose.”

“
Sure,” he said, his tone clearly implying that he didn't believe a word I'd said.

“
What if I don't wanna get naked with you, West Montgomery?” I asked, raising my eyebrows, trying to sound serious. “What if I said you were moving too fast? Slow it down a little?”

His eyes shot to mine and I could see I'd struck a chord with him. I was joking but his expression indicated he'd taken what I'd just said very seriously.

“Then I'll slow it down,” he said simply. “No questions asked.”

It wasn't the answer I'd expected. I was certain he'd banter with me, maybe turn on some extra charm, offer up some more laced innuendo.

But he was deadly serious.

“
This isn't just sex,” he said. “Not for me.”

I didn't say anything, just sat there in my beer-soaked dress and stared at him.

“Do I want you?” He shook his head, like it wasn't even a question. “Fuck yes, I do. But I also want
you
, Abby. Not just what you can do to me and how good you can make me feel. I want all of you.”

“
OK.” It was a totally inadequate response but it was all I was capable of.

He sat up a little. His hands were in his lap but his leg was still touching me, pressed firmly against mine. “Remember the other night when we were in my room?”

I nodded.

“
And I said I wanted to show you something.” He smiled. “I knew what you were thinking. Just some con to get you in my room. Get you alone. Remember? I said as much.”

I nodded again. I remembered. Crystal clear.

“But I didn't attack you, did I? I could have—and I know I could've worn you down. Trust me. But I didn't. I went into my closet and I pulled out that damn box and I shared part of me with you.”

“
I know,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“
It's easy to hook up with someone.” He reached for my hand, covering it with both of his. “Get off and go. Believe me, I've had that.”

I felt my insides somersault a little. I'd already figured as much but it sucked hearing it from him.

“I don't want that with you,” he said. “And I know I'm a tough person to get to know. I don't make it easy. But I'm trying with you. Because I like you.” His hands squeezed mine gently. “I really like you, Abby Sellers.”

There was something in the way he said it that eliminated any doubt I had about him. And as nice as it was to hear him respect my feelings, there was a tiny part of me that was disappointed that he wasn't going to rip my clothes off, throw me down on the floor and have his way with me. But I knew how rare it was to find a guy who actually meant what he said and then backed it up with actions. West was different.

West was special.

I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” he said, glancing at me. “The thoughts I have about you are not so goody-goody. Trust me.”

“
I think I like that.”

He put his hand on my chin and kissed me softly. “Not gonna hurt you, Abby Sellers. Promise.”

I sighed, leaning into him. I could've sat there forever.

“
And we need to get you out of those clothes,” he said. He slid out from beneath me and stood from the couch. “Be right back.”

I sat there, waiting on him, not caring that I was covered in beer. I was just happy to be with him. I couldn't remember ever feeling the way I felt about him. I'd had crushes and boyfriends and boys that I'd longed for. But this? This felt different. This felt like it was capturing me.

This felt real.

He was back quickly, holding out a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. “Not the prettiest things in the world, but they're clean.”

I took them from him.

“
Bathroom's down the hall,” he said, pointing over his shoulder.

“
I know,” I said, lifting the dress over my head. I dropped it on the couch. “I'm okay right here.”

He bit down on his bottom lip and didn't bother to hide that his eyes moved down my body, then up again. I took my time with the T-shirt, making sure he could see the bra and panties I'd bought just for him. Judging by the glassy look in his eyes and the way he was rubbing at his chin, I knew he liked them. I wanted him to see them and standing there, I felt as sexy and attractive as I ever had.

I pulled the T-shirt over my head, then shimmied into the sweats. The T-shirt was an old brown one with the Padres logo and the sweat pants were heather gray, a slight tear in the left knee. They both smelled like him.

“
Are you trying to torture me?” he finally asked, his eyes still glued to me, even as I was fully dressed.

“
No,” I said, moving the dress from the couch to the coffee table and sitting back down. I tucked my legs beneath me. “I just don't mind you looking at me.”

“
Well, I looked,” he said, nodding. “And it all looks...incredible.”

“
Thank you.”

“
Do I get to see more?”

“
Play your cards right.”

“
Just tell me what I have to do.”

I laughed and shook my head, but I loved the attention. Loved that I had that kind of effect on him. Loved that I could picture him ripping his own clothes off of my body.

I started to say something, but his phone buzzed on the kitchen table.

“
Your phone,” I said.

“
But then I'd have to look away from you if I answer it,” he said.

“
I'll be right here. You can stare at me while you talk. Maybe I'll undress again and distract you.”

He chuckled, shook his head and walked toward the table. He glanced down at the phone, made a face and touched the screen. “Nobody.”

“Nobody?”

“
Nobody I wanna talk to,” he said, turning back to me.

The phone began buzzing on the table again. He glanced at it.

“I think they wanna talk to you,” I said.

“
Jesus Christ,” he muttered, stabbing his finger at the screen again. “Take a fucking hint.”

“
Not a friend, I take it?”

He shook his head, didn't say anything.

And, of course, my insecurity kicked in. Who was calling? Why wouldn't he answer? Was it because I was there? It was like the buzzing of the phone was sucking the oxygen out of the room.