Chapter 13 #2
But somehow, I rein it in. I taste, but I don’t devour.
If I do, I’m liable to throw her over my shoulder and extend our night together inside her apartment.
While that’s what I’d love to do, that’s not taking this slow, the way we just discussed downstairs.
So, I keep my wits about me and the kiss from escalating to steamy.
Instead, I savor. I revel in the feel of her lips, the slide of her tongue. My unoccupied hand comes up to cup her cheek, my thumb caressing the smooth line of her jaw. When I let it trail down her neck, she shivers, and I can feel the goosebumps on her skin.
“I’ll see you soon, Lizzie,” I murmur against her lips, placing one more chaste kiss to her skin.
“I’ll be here,” she whispers, her fingers gripping the side of my shirt as if it were the anchor she needs to keep her grounded.
Pulling back, I give her a slight smile, release her hand, and turn to head down the stairs. “Lock up.”
“I will.”
When I reach the base of the stairs, I glance back and say, “Now, Lizzie. Lock up now.”
“Yes, sir,” she states with a mock salute that makes my cock twitch in my pants.
She waves before slipping inside her apartment and closing the door.
I listen for the sound of the locks engaging, and only when I hear the distinct sound do I push out the back door.
I check the handle to make sure it’s also locked, and only then do I shove my hands in my pockets and make my way to my truck.
When I slide inside the cab and start the engine, I smile.
I can still feel her against my lips, taste her on my tongue.
As I throw the truck into reverse and pull from my parking spot, I realize I’m in trouble.
Not the kind of mischievous trouble I found myself in when I was younger.
This trouble causes a rapid beat in my chest.
That kiss wasn’t enough.
No, there’s no going back now.
I’m completely addicted to Lizzie Meyer.
I shut off the mower and leave it in the yard. Not because I’m lazy and don’t want to put it away, but simply because if I don’t go up to my deck and find out why Cade is here, he’s liable to sit there and drink all my beer without a care in the world.
“What’s up, dickhead?” I ask, dropping onto the Adirondack chair next to him.
“This the only beer you have?” he asks, making a face.
“You tell me. You were in my fridge.” I wait a few seconds before adding, “You know it’s barely eleven.”
He shrugs. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
I grunt in response and survey my backyard. It was one of the reasons I picked this house when I was looking. It’s spacious, has a firepit, and ample space for entertaining. “I thought for sure you’d come up to the Lizard last night,” I state.
He takes another pull from the bottle of beer. “I was gonna but found a friend to…entertain.” He waggles his eyebrows, as if I needed any further clarification as to what he meant.
I snort and shake my head.
“What? Just because you live a monk lifestyle doesn’t mean I have to,” he counters, a wolfish grin on his face.
“I date,” I argue, even though it’s a loose argument.
“Having sex twice in the last year is not dating, Collin.”
My eyes narrow. “Did you forget Sam?”
He barks out a laugh, clearly at my expense. “You mean Sam, who broke into your house and stole your clothes?”
I knew I shouldn’t have brought her up.
Shifting in my seat, I reply, “Yeah. Her. She might have been a little…different, but I still dated her.”
He laughs, practically in my face. “Different. Yep. We’ll go with that. And I probably wouldn’t be boasting about her. She took all your socks.”
I have no response, because the fact remains, she did steal my socks.
And my boxers, and my T-shirts. Though, apparently, just the dirty ones of those.
When I saw her wearing the shirt I had slept in the night before I had to work, knowing full well I left it in my laundry, I called her on it, and she confessed to borrowing it.
Then proceeded to show me the socks and boxers she was also wearing.
That was the end of my relationship with Sam. Not only did she invade my personal space after only a few months of dating by somehow jimmying the lock on my back door, but she also slept in my bed and took my shit, as if she had a right to be there while I wasn’t.
“You should ask out Lizzie.”
His words make me pause. I take a second to school my features so they’re neutral, but it’s too late. My twin—the person who knows me better than I probably know myself—just smiles that shit-eating grin of his. It’s cocky and full of self-righteousness, because the asshole knows he has me.
“What happened?”
“I don’t kiss and tell,” I counter, which is a complete lie. At least where he’s concerned.
Like I said, no one knows me better than Cade.
“So…you kissed her. Nice.”
I exhale deeply, only to be greeted by his cocky laughter once more.
“Don’t stop now. Tell me everything.”
“I didn’t tell you anything to begin with,” I state.
“Maybe not with words, but it was what you didn’t say,” he replies like the cocky bastard he is.
“There’s nothing to tell.” Not yet, anyway. “I kissed her. We agreed to keep it professional during work.”
“But after work…” he says, leaving his statement wide open, and for good reason. Like I said, he knows me well.
“We’ll see what happens.”
“I’ll tell you what better happen,” he retorts. “I better not have to explain it to you.”
“You don’t,” I blurt out, hoping to end this conversation.
I’ve never had a problem talking to my brother about women, but it feels different now. I want him to know all about how amazing I think Lizzie is, but he doesn’t need to know all the dirty details. Not that there are any of those…
Yet.
“So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day?”
“Yardwork,” I reply.
“After.”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s go up to the Lizard. You can buy me a beer,” he says.
“Because drinking all of mine at home isn’t good enough for you?” I ask, even though I secretly love the idea.
“Because getting to watch you fawn all over the hot girl is going to be better than drinking all your beer.”
I exhale and shake my head. Something tells me he’s going to make this as uncomfortable as possible. I don’t care about him giving me a hard time, but I definitely don’t want him upsetting Lizzie. Or her thinking I blabbed to my brother about what happened last night.
“If we’re leaving, you have to help me with my yardwork before we go,” I state.
“Fine, but you better bring me another beer.”
And that’s how I get roped into going to The Tipsy Lizard with my bonehead brother on a Sunday afternoon.