“It was just a figure of speech,” I say, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel.
“I know,” she accepts easily. Too easily.
“I wasn’t suggesting that you actually love me.” I smile awkwardly when she flicks her eyes up to mine.
“I know,” she says again, laughing. It’s an exaggerated laugh. “You going to get dressed, or walk up to your apartment in the buff?”
I look at my naked body, and then around the vicinity for my clothes, locating my trousers and fetching them. As I slip them on, I continue the cursing party in my head, wishing I could take back the stupid statement that’s taken our moment from blissful to awkward. The tension is thick. Horrible. I don’t like it, and worried by the prospect of the remainder of our night being cloaked in this dreadful atmosphere, I take drastic action. My time with Lainey already feels like it’s limited way too much. I’ll be buggered if I’m ruining what time I do get.
After slipping my arms into the sleeves of my shirt, I leave the buttons unfastened and sling my tie around my neck. “Right,” I declare, grabbing her attention. She looks at me, maybe a little worried, as I stalk toward her.
“What?” she questions, backing up, and that maybe worry quickly transforming into definite worry. Could even be anxiety.
“Get here, you.” I grab her and throw her up over my shoulder, swatting her arse playfully.
Her startled yelp turns into a laugh. “You’re such a nut, Christianson.”
So I slap her backside again, and she yelps on another laugh. Okay, now things are looking much better again. It’s all I can do not to wipe the beads of stressed sweat from my brow. I feel like I nearly lost her just then.
As I pace back up to my apartment, I make a point of slapping her arse every few paces, spiking endless shrieks and a few return slaps of my arse in the process. Better. Much better. “Are you hungry?” I ask as we breach the entrance of my kitchen. I place her on her feet and wait for the few seconds it takes her to brush her wet hair from her face.
“Not really.”
“Thirsty?”
“Oh, we left the wine by the pool.”
I pass her and go to the fridge, pulling out a fresh bottle and grabbing two new glasses down, waving them at her. “Backup supplies. Bed or couch?”
“Couch.”
“Great, couch it is.” I usher her from the kitchen and into the lounge, pointing at the sofa with the bottle. While she makes herself comfy, I pour the wine, hearing my phone ringing. Handing a glass to Lainey, I get my mobile from my pocket and reject Jenna’s call before joining Lainey on the couch.
“Oh, no,” she sighs dramatically, making my glass pause midway to my lips.
“What?”
“You want to talk again, don’t you?”
I laugh and take a sip of my wine. “I like to hear what you have to say. Is that a terribly bad thing?”
“Of course.” She waggles an eyebrow cheekily. “You don’t want me to think that this is all about the sex for you.”
“Is it for you?” I fire back without much thought.
“No, it’s about beating my fear of water, too.”
I laugh. Oh, she’s cute. I don’t tell her that for me, this is also about beating her fear of surrendering herself to a man again. And it’s probably not wise to mention that I want to be that man. Although, and I don’t want to count my chickens and all that, I feel like she’s slowly letting her guard down.
Then I consider her reaction when I picked her up from her apartment earlier. She virtually sprinted into my arms. Yes, we were all over each other. Desperate. But I can still honestly say I’ve never reacted like this toward any other woman before. Fuck, she’s irresistible. And even though she rags me about wanting to talk, we have had a few incidental conversations and text messages where I’ve learned more about her crazy dry sense of humor. And just now by the pool, she said some pretty deep stuff. She’s witty, sarcastic, smart, fun, determined, and I like that. I like her.
“I like you, Lainey Summer.”
She smiles, and it’s one of my favorite smiles. “I like you too, Tyler Christianson.”
“So I can expect to keep you for as long as it takes you to learn to swim?”
She grins, moving toward me. I lift my arm and let her settle into my side, her legs curled under her bum, her head on my chest. “It might take me a while.”
I smile to myself, unable and unwilling to stop my thought process. How about forever?AS I STAND IN THE kitchen preparing two coffees, I don’t let my brain steer too near the fact that I’m about to fall off the top end of the pussy spectrum. I’m just making her a morning coffee, that’s all. And delivering it to her in bed. My bed.