Her cheeks pinken, and she pulls away, dropping my hand like a hot iron. I instantly miss her touch. “Right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Goldie.”
She clears her throat and stands. “I’m in the mood for a burger. I’ll pick up Rosie’s.” She rushes to the entry, her keys jingling as she snags them off the hook. “The usual?”
She’s out the door before I can respond, and I throw my head back against the couch with a groan. “Way to fumble the ball, asshole.”
Chapter 10
Dream Guys & Creampies
? The Giver - Chappell Roan
Liam
My fist connects with the heavy bag, and a welcome pain ripples through my sweat-soaked body. I’ve been at it for more than an hour, but the aggression isn’t doing anything to douse the fire pulsing through me at the memory of her touch. I thought another shift would help ease the tension; I was dead wrong.
Moving her into my house—intomybedroom—might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve spent the better part of ten years trying to resist the woman, only to go and invite her to live with us.
What was I thinking?
I even went so far as to move into the guest room so she could have the whole upstairs to herself. Now, I can’t help imagining what she looks like sprawled out on my mattress, all lush curves and golden hair.
She’s pretending like nothing happened the other night, butI still remember the feel of her skin beneath my palm and how her breath hitched.
Fuck. I’m getting hard again. Time for a cold shower.
I slump on the weight bench and unwrap my hands, my breathing ragged from the exertion. A knock sounds at the door. I don’t bother looking up, assuming that it’s one of the guys coming to use the gym. My buddies, Dean and Miles, come here regularly. My home gym is a helluva lot better than the small, outdated one in town.
“Come in,” I call.
The door swings open to reveal a barefoot Ruby wearing a pair of cut-off shorts and a cropped tee. Her hair is in two braids, and she’s wearing her sunglasses on her head. “Hey, Liam. Oh?—”
Her eyes rake over my naked torso, likely taking time to ogle every tattoo she can see from her vantage point. I grab a towel, run it over my face and hair, and drape it across my shoulders. “What’s up?”
“I was, um…” She clears her throat. “I was heading into town. Just wanted to see if you needed anything from the market. Or… wherever.” She tangles her fingers in the end of one of her braids, fidgeting with the strands. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this flustered. It’s cute.
“I think we're good, but thanks.”
“Sure. I guess I’ll just”—she juts a thumb over her shoulder—“go.”
“You settling in ok?” I pull a T-shirt over my head.
“Yep. All good.” She turns to walk away, but I stop her again.
“I heard you playing earlier. Sounded great. Is it new?”
She smiles, and some of the tension seems to evaporate from her. “Just something I’ve been working on.”
“It’s nice. Having music in the house again, I mean. I haven’t had much time to play since… everything.”
The conversation is stilted, almost like two people meeting for the first time. This isn’t us; we've always had an easy friendship, even when she was with Connor. The thought of my brother is enough to sober me. “I should go take a shower.”
“Right. And I have to…. go.”
She rushes out the door like a bat outta hell, and I realize I was too distracted by her body in those tight ass shorts to realize I forgot to cover my tattoo.
Thetattoo.
