CHAPTER 9 BENNETT #2
But I didn’t do that. No, I served Cougar up on a silver platter to Bower, practically dabbing her face with a napkin and handing her the utensils to chow down.
What a fucking moron.
“Fuck,” I say, dragging my hand down my face. “What have I done?”
“Something incredibly stupid.”
“Maybe…maybe they won’t hit it off.”
“They will.” Nolan downs another Powerade. “Because I know Cougar, and there isn’t one person that he doesn’t hit it off with. Your only prayer now is that he won’t like her. Any hope in that angle?”
I shake my head because Bower is perfect. How could he not like her? She’s fun, beautiful, smart, quick on her feet, and outgoing. Nothing seems to bother her. And she’s up for pretty much anything.
“She’s…she’s amazing.”
“Says the guy with hearts in his eyes when he speaks about her.”
“She is,” I say, slouching more in my chair, defeat reigning over me.
“They’re going to hit it off, date, and he’ll end up fulfilling all of her sexual fantasies, and by next year they’ll be engaged and I’ll be asked to give a speech at their wedding about how I set them up despite being completely and utterly infatuated with her. ”
Nolan pauses for a moment, staring me down through those ridiculous sunglasses. After a few seconds, he nods. “Yup, that seems very accurate.”
“I fucking hate you.”
“Don’t hate the plan, my man.” He cracks open another bottle. “Hate the execution.”
Head buried in my pillow, I take a deep breath and then sigh.
It still smells like her.
If you’re thinking, Whoa, dude, that’s coming off as pathetic, then you would be right.
It is pathetic.
And yet, here I am.
This is what I have left of her. The faint smell of her in the fabric of a pillowcase.
With one more big sniff, I get myself out of my bed and head to the bathroom, where I take care of business and brush my teeth before slipping on a pair of sweatpants that ride low on my hips from how much I’ve been training.
My waist has become narrower and my shoulders broader.
I’ve seen the change slowly happen over the last two years since I’ve been training and eating differently.
My muscles are more pronounced, my skin almost feels tighter around my bones, showing off every curve and indent.
Sure, probably in the best shape of my life, but what good has that done me?
None.
Absolutely zero.
I scoop some water into my hands and spray my face and wet my hair before drying off and heading into the kitchen to make a protein drink.
Water droplets fall from my hair as I grab my milk just as there is a knock at the door.
I glance at the time and know that I didn’t order anything, therefore it could only be one person.
Excitement pulses through me as I set the milk down and go to the door.
Thank God I brushed my teeth.
I open the door and standing on the other side, wearing a pair of black leggings and a white off-the-shoulder crop top, is Bower. Fuck, she’s so beautiful.
“Good morning,” she says with a huge smile. “I can see that you’re ready for the day.”
“Late night. Just got out of bed.”
“Ooo, did you go out?” she asks, wiggling her brows.
“No, game went extra innings.”
“Did you win?”
“No,” I answer, still feeling the irritation of the loss.
“Yikes, that’s not fun.” She nods to my apartment. “Are you going to let me in, or are you going to make me talk to you out here?”
I push the door open and she walks under my arm, her hair brushing against my skin as she walks by, and it takes everything in me not to get hard from it.
Fuck, I’m so pathetic.
I don’t see the bag she has with her until she sets it on the counter and turns toward me.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Cronuts. Want one?”
“Not really part of my diet,” I say.
Her eyes scan my torso for a moment before she clears her throat and says, “I think you can spare the calories.” Then she moves to my kitchen, grabs two plates, and brings them to the counter, where she dishes out two large, pink-frosted cronuts.
“Raspberry flavored,” she says before lifting up and taking a seat on the counter.
Joining her, I lean my hip against the counter, pick up my cronut, and take a bite just as she does.
Her eyes widen and then they shut as she lightly moans.
Nope.
No.
Can’t have her doing that.
“This is so good. It’s like sex in my mouth.”
“Huh?” I ask.
“Better than an orgasm.”
I mean, it’s good, but not that good.
“If you think this is better than an orgasm, then clearly you haven’t been with the right people.”
“Clearly.” She takes another bite and moans.
“Can you…can you not do that?” I ask, trying to hold it together.
“Do what?”
“Moan while you eat?”
“Why? Turning you on?” she jokes.
Yeah.
I look away and she laughs, nudging me with her foot.
“Oh my God, Bennett, a food moan is turning you on.”
“No, I mean…maybe, it’s just…it’s been a little bit since, you know, and I don’t need you moaning like that. It’s too sexual and you have me reading those books, and it’s just—”
“They made you horny.”
“Hell…” I let out a deep breath.
She laughs loudly. “Do you see why I’m the way that I am? My vibrator has had three new battery changes. I’m wearing it out.”
I glance at her, not expecting her to be so candid. Then again, it’s Bower. I should expect nothing less.
“Your hand must be rubbed raw.” She lifts my hand to examine it. “My God, the calluses on your palms. Your poor dick. It must be like fucking a cheese grater every time you jack off.” Her eyes meet mine. “Is your dick okay?”
“My dick is fine.”
“Just fine?” She lifts a brow.
“Can we not talk about this?”
“Ooo, you seem to be in a mood today. Everything okay?”
No.
It’s not okay.
First, you look hot as shit and you’re not even wearing makeup—which of course is my favorite.
Second, you smell so fucking good that it’s taking everything in me not to push you against the wall and run my tongue up your neck—or rub my pillow all over you for an extra boost in scent.
And third, you’re going on a date with a guy that you’re probably going to end up marrying, all because I failed to do the research before giving you his information.
“Just tired,” I say.