The woman I think I’m falling for.
Dammit.
Fucking hell.
I was hoping it was my sex-brain tricking me last night.
But I feel it again now, in the light of day, and it’s pissing me off a little.
Yep . . . there it is, the source of my grouchiness, even though a hot woman wearing nothing but my T-shirt has made me French toast and is perched beside me at my kitchen table, looking unreasonably cute with powdered sugar on her nose as she praises the cherry-heavy fruit and jam selection in my fridge.
She really is the best. I’m going to miss her, more than I ever imagined I would when we started the list a few days ago.
But my gut tells me that was simply a failure of my imagination. My gut insists that Ruby has been one of my favorite people for a long time and that my feelings for her are more complicated than I’ve been willing to let on.
Even to myself.
Even if it took friends with benefits to start to see it.
Like now, for example. I want to pull her into my lap, kiss the sugar from her nose, and hold her, feel her curvy little body close to mine and know she’s not going anywhere for a long while.
That isn’t something I feel when it’s “just sex” with a woman.
That’s something I feel when I’m . . .
That damn word. I can hear it taunting me.
Falling.
Ruby puts her hand over mine, pulling me from my thoughts as she peers up into my eyes. “Did you hear me? You must not have, or you would be freaking the hell out right now.”
I blink and focus my attention on her face. “Why?”
“The ocean, Jesse,” she whispers, before swallowing hard. “I’m ready to go to it. To go into it.”
My eyes widen. “Fuck.” She hasn’t dipped a toe in the ocean since a school trip in junior high when a wave crashed over her, tugged her under, tossed her around, and thankfully spat her out before it was too late.
I can still remember the look on Claire’s pale face as she relayed the story after, of trying to get to Ruby while the waves slammed her back toward the beach and the stupid Jersey Shore lifeguard took his sweet time getting off his stand.
My sister wasn’t the strongest swimmer, either, but she’d still been willing to risk her life for her best friend at only thirteen.
Even as my mom had lectured Claire that she should always leave lifesaving to the professionals, I’d been so proud of my little sis and her big, brave heart.
The memory tightens my throat and makes me feel even more soft inside.
Even more protective of this woman I don’t ever want to lose.
Especially not before her time.
“Yeah.” She nods seriously, her breath rushing out. “But let me make sure my will is up to date before we go. Also, I’ll need to borrow a swimsuit from Gigi. The only one I have is from eighth grade and probably doesn’t fit anymore. My boobs, though still small, have gotten bigger since then.”
“Your boobs are perfect,” I say, reaching out to cup one through the thin cotton shirt she’s wearing. Damn. Yep, still perfect. “And if memory serves, we had a lot of fun last night with these beauties.”
“Stop,” she says, her lashes fluttering. “If we’re going to get to the water before noon, I have to get dressed.”
But she doesn’t shove my hand away, and when I catch her nipple between my fingers, she makes a happy, sexy sound that convinces me the water can wait. “I could do a lot with these tits.”
“Like?”