“None. Completely smooth.”
Danielle groans. “He sounds like a sculpture.”
“Yes, exactly like a sculpture.” When I sigh contently, I snap myself out of it. “I should get going.” I stop in the hallway and straighten my favorite flea market painting of the coast.
“Oh, no you don’t. Not before you tell me about the goods.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
“Hisdick, Maryn. Tell me about his dick.”
My cheeks and chest heat up ten degrees just thinking about it. “What do you want to know?”
“Ugh! You’re so coy. Everything! Long, thick, short, skinny, bent, crooked, veiny…”
“Okay, okay, that’s a lot of… adjectives.”
“Well, you’re not giving me any, so I had to fill in the blanks.”
I laugh at my best friend. “You’re relentless.”
“Yes, I am. And you’re a hold out.”
“I’m not holding out.” With a sigh, I stare at the painting and give my best friend what she’s begging for. “Fine. Here are my adjectives: Big. Long. Girthy.” I pause, then add, “But not in a scary way.”
Not scary at all in fact, save for the terrifying yearning the sight of it stirred in me.
“And he had morning wood?”
I nearly whimper at the memory. “Yes.”
Danielle whines. “Girl, I’d say you should take advantage of that gift, but at twenty-nine, I doubt he’d have any idea what to do with you.”
Shaking my head, I laugh at that notion because she’s wrong. “That’s just it, Dani, I think Cas would knowexactlywhat to do with me.” I step into the kitchen and nearly drop my phone.
Cas stands in his usual spot, hips resting against the counter as he sips coffee from one of my mugs with a shit-eating grin on his face that tells me he’s just heard
Every
Single
Word
Of my conversation with Danielle. Of which he—and his body—had the starring role.
A giggle bubbles up my throat and past my lips before I can stop it. My cheeks heat to a hundred degrees and probably turn ten shades of crimson. Shaking my head, I turn away from Cas and whisper into the phone—like whispering even matters at this point. “I have to go, Dani.”
“Wait! We’re not done! Don’t hang up on—”
I end the call and take a deep breath, then square my shoulders and turn back to face him.
His green eyes dance with unrestrained amusement. “The door was open.”
I nod. “I thought you might be hungry.”
His gaze travels slowly down my body, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and telling me that he is, indeed, hungry. But not for what’s on the menu. When he brings his eyes back up to meet mine, he gives me that smile that nearly knocks the wind from my lungs every damn time. “I brought you a green juice.” He motions toward the plastic cup on the counter. “Ready for our first day?”
“Mhm.” The sound is more like a squeak, but it’s all I can manage.
