Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
GRACIE
I rush for my bedroom the moment Ang and the girls are out of my sight, acting entirely too much like the lovesick teenager I'm trying hard not to be.
Stripping out of my clothes, I toss them haphazardly across the room, not caring one bit if they make it into the hamper or not, and change into something a little more comfortable.
Butterflies swoop around in my stomach as I look at myself in the mirror.
Am I trying too hard?
My reflection stares back at me in a pair of booty shorts and an oversized sweatshirt.
Casual and comfy, but with a healthy dose of sex appeal.
I shake my hair out a bit and let it fall naturally around my shoulders, then debate putting on some mascara and lip gloss.
That would definitely be trying too hard. Instead, I settle for the natural look.
A quick glance at the clock reveals I have another fifty minutes before Ang will be done putting the girls to bed. I bop my forehead in disgust. Why the hell did I rush?
Oh, right. The whole lovesick-teenager thing I have going on.
I can’t even say when it happened, but at some point I stopped seeing Ang as just my landlord and boss, and started to see him as so much more.
Maybe it’s every time I see him with his kids and my ovaries burst from the unconditional love he shows them.
He certainly has the hot-single-dad thing going on.
Or maybe it’s because he treats me like an equal instead of a kid.
I mean, I love my siblings, but to them I’ve always been the baby.
Even to their friends, I’m little more than the baby sister.
But Ang is different. He treats me like a woman. An attractive woman, even.
I need a fifty-minute distraction. Maybe I can make time go faster by cleaning up my room.
I wouldn't go as far as saying I'm a slob, but I could do a better job of putting things away.
My clothes, for starters. While there are certainly times when it's easier, I don't have to live out of a clothes basket.
And I could make my bed after I get out of it each morning.
But since I'm just going to crawl back into it at night, it seems like a waste of time.
I could put my makeup away after I use it.
But again, what's the point since I'll just have to pull it out again the next day.
But since I'm trying to keep myself busy, I do all those things, plus a few more, until the clock shows it's been fifty-five minutes since Ang told me to meet him.
Close enough.
Trying to keep the eagerness out of my steps, I slowly walk across the bedroom and step through the door that separates my place from the rest of the house. And standing there, in a pair of gray sweatpants and a tight T-shirt, is the man himself.
Ang sees me and groans. "Are you trying to kill me, baby?"
Mmm, baby. I like the sound of that.
I tilt my head to the side, and with my best confused voice say, "I don't know what you mean?"
"Are you even wearing anything under that sweatshirt?"
I flash my shirt up and showcase my itty-bitty black shorts I occasionally wear to do yoga.
Ang groans again. "And here I thought we could start by talking. I'm not sure we’ll get much of that done with you wearing that."
Ohhhhhh. Wow. Talk about reading the situation wrong. I thought for sure when he asked me to wait for him, it was because he was interested in way more than talking.
"I'm so sorry. I can go change if that would make you feel better." I hike my thumb over my shoulder toward my room, feeling like a complete dumbass for assuming he meant something else.
"No!" Ang rubs his right hand along his jaw. "I'm going about this all wrong."
I shift from foot to foot, not sure what to do or say.
I don't want to make another assumption and possibly embarrass myself even more, so I stay quiet and let Ang work through his thoughts. I watch the way his brows furrow and wonder if he does that every time he’s thinking hard or if that’s specific to dealing with me.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, and one really big deep sigh that raises his chest, he finally says, "Let's take a seat on the couch."
I plop down on one of the cushions without an ounce of finesse.
I figure at this point it doesn't really matter.
This night isn't going at all like I thought it would.
I curl up with my side against the armrest and my legs tucked close to the side of my body, making me as small as possible in the corner of the couch.
I expect Ang to sit farther down on the couch, to put some distance between us while we talk, but instead he sits close enough that my legs are touching his. I'm even more confused when he grabs my foot, places it on his lap, and starts to give me a massage.
"I know it seems like I'm all over the place, but let me explain," he starts, simultaneously digging his thumbs into the heel of my foot. I want to moan it feels so good.
I'm so distracted by the magic he’s wielding, I almost miss when he starts talking again.
"Earlier tonight, when Livy mentioned me being too busy to help her prep for her test, I started to panic. My daughters have always come first, and I don't want—wait, no, I can’t let that change just because you're here."
I move to pull my foot away, but Ang refuses to let go.
"I didn't realize I gave off the impression I expect to be put first before your daughters." I say it with a little too much bite in my tone, but honestly, how could I not? I would never expect any father to put me or any woman before his kids. That isn’t how relationships work. My parents never put each other before their kids, and I wouldn’t expect it in a relationship I had either.
"I keep screwing this up." He drops his head to the back of the couch.
I'm tempted to say Ah yeah, you are, but I'm not the kind of person who rubs it in. Instead, I wait silently to see what comes out of his mouth next. I’m not sure I want to hear it, but I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
From what I can tell, he hasn’t dated since his wife passed away, so this is all new to him.
"You never gave me the impression you expected to be put first. In fact, you've been great at prioritizing my family in your life. Better than great, actually. I’m the one who screwed up.
I got in my head this morning when I told the kids about dinner tonight.
I was too focused on that to see what was happening during breakfast. I put pressure on myself to have the perfect dinner with you and the kids when I didn't need to.
That was my fault. I can't let it happen again though. "
I chew on the corner of my lip because, honestly, I have no idea where he's going with this. "So what are you saying?"
"That I'm out of practice when it comes to dating, so the chances of me screwing up even more are highly likely."
I smirk at his honesty, but shimmy until I'm straddling his lap and have his full attention. "Want to know what the good thing about being out of practice is?" I wiggle my eyebrows.
"What's that?" He settles his hands on either side of my thighs.
"I get to corrupt you."
I watch in fascination as his Adam's apple bobs when he throws his head back in laughter. The sound alone makes me wet and wanting, and I have to force myself not to rub against him like a dog in heat. That's not what tonight is about.
"If your shirts are any indication, it won't take much," he says, and now it's my turn to laugh. I've never wanted some of those shirts to come true as much as I do in this moment.
All laughter dies away when his hands come up and cup my face. As if in slow motion, Ang's mouth descends on mine. One brush of the lips and I'm a goner. Stars explode behind my eyes. Cartoon hearts dance around my head. This kiss puts every first kiss in every romance book I've ever read to shame.
It's real. It's dominating and intense and soft all wrapped up in one. It’s teeth clashing, lips smashing, and earth shattering. It's everything I thought it would be, and yet so much more.
I never want it to stop.
But I need to keep my head about me, and something Ang said keeps playing in my mind.
He was worried about things being perfect, but I don’t want perfect.
I want real and I want slow. I want to see where things go naturally, without either of us feeling the pressure of doing everything right, or right now.
My brain and heart both screaming at me, asking what the hell I think I’m doing, I break the kiss and slide off his lap.
"Where are you going?" I can hear the pout in his voice and my inner vixen smiles.
"To sleep."
His brows scrunch up into a cute confused expression.
"If this is going to work, we need to take things slow. Get to know each other better and see how things progress on their own without adding certain pressures. That can't happen if I'm grinding on your lap like a hussy." I smile at him. "So sleep it is."
I start to turn away and head back to my bedroom when he calls my name. I don't turn around, but I do give him my attention over my shoulder.
"Thank you for understanding."
He wouldn't be thanking me if he knew the thoughts I'm having about him. And because I'm trouble, I make sure to leave him with a bit of a tease before dashing off. "Remember to thank me after I make one of my shirts come true."