I spin around, finding his eyes are now fixated on my bare legs. He rakes his gaze up the length of my legs, over my stomach, lingering a little on my chest, before meeting my face. Hunger radiates from his eyes, and I catch my breath.
“Those legs should be illegal, as well as other parts of your body,” he says in a gruff, deep tone that sends shivers sweeping over my skin. My nipples harden to sharp points, poking against my cotton pajama top like a calling card. Of course, he notices, and the look he gives me makes my knees buckle and my core tremble with need.
“I can change,” I croak, not trusting myself in the face of such intense chemistry. I move to walk off, and he darts forward, planting his hands on the counter, caging me in.
“Don’t,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss my neck.
I grab the counter, tilting my head to one side as if on autopilot, granting him more access. He trails his lips seductively up and down my neck, and every part of my body is on fire. Without warning, he pulls back, adjusting himself in his jeans before running his hands through his wild blond hair. “Sorry.” His voice is thick with the same need coursing through my veins. “I didn’t come here for that.”
“What did you come for?” I ask, straightening up.
“I came to watch movies, drink wine, eat ice cream, and cheer you up.”
Tears well in my eyes again. “Sorry,” I sniff, swiping at the moisture clinging to my lashes. “I’m a bit of a basket case today.”
“It’s okay.” Without hesitation, he pulls me into his arms, enveloping me in a firm hug I desperately need. I cling to him, siphoning his warmth and his strength until I feel fully composed. “Thank you,” I quietly say, looking up at him.
He brushes his mouth against mine in the sweetest kiss. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m right where I want to be.”
I stretch up and kiss him quickly. “We best eat this ice cream before it melts.”
“I’ll make you a deal.” He removes the carton of chocolate ice cream from the bag. “I’ll serve the ice cream while you change into tracksuit bottoms or a black sack or anything else as long as it’s baggy and it conceals those tempting legs.”
“I thought you said I wasn’t to change.” I pin him with a faux innocent expression.
“If you want me to keep my hands to myself, covering those gorgeous legs is your best bet.”
I’m not sure I want him to keep his hands to himself, but the fact I’m indecisive means he probably should. “On it,” I purr, smirking as I sashay to my bedroom to change.
* * *
“Oh, fuck, no!” Dillon vigorously shakes his head, glaring at the TV screen. “Are you trying to torture me, woman? Anything butThe Notebook. I’m begging you.” Closing his palms together, he begs me with his eyes, but it only makes me more determined. He doesn’t wait for my reply before continuing to plead his case. “Why can’t girls’ go-to movie beDeadpoolorJason Bourne, huh? Fuck, I’d even sit throughA Star is Bornand be happy.”
“Are you insane?” I raise my hand. “Actually, don’t answer that.” I smirk at his scowl. “That movie doesnothave a happy ending, and I can’t watch a romance without a happy ending.”
“The Notebookdoesn’t have a happy ending either!”
“The ending was my favorite part of the book. Although it’s poignant, it still made me smile because they’re together for eternity and their love will live on.A Star is Bornmade me ragey as hell. I wanted to cut a bitch after I watched that movie.”
“That kind of turns me on.” He smirks, and I roll my eyes.
Curling my bowl into my chest, I swing my covered legs up onto the leather couch, as I press pause on the remote. “I’m going to admit something very few people know.” He flops onto the middle of the couch with a resigned sigh, lifting my feet and plonking them in his lap. He gives me his undivided attention as I scoop a big spoonful of ice cream. “I’ve never watchedThe Notebook. I was only four when it premiered in movie theaters, but I have read the book. I wasnotimpressed.”
His mouth hangs open and his eyes pop wide. “So, why the hell do you want to watch the movie?” Incredulity drips from his tone.
“We were discussing it recently in my American lit class, and everyone said the movie is ten times better. I want to see if it’s true.”
“It’s not,” he deadpans. “We should just watchDeadpool.”
“Not happening, dude.” I wave my spoon in his face.
“NowI’mgoing to admit something. Something lots of people unfortunately know,” he wryly replies, shoveling a large mouthful of ice cream into his delectable mouth. I watch in fascination as he swallows it in seconds. “I’ve seen this movie way too many times to count.”
“How does that even happen when you’ve never had a girlfriend?”
“I had a heartbroken sister who watched it nonstop for weeks. I was the only sucker in the family strong enough to endure that shit on a continuous loop.” He makes a face before shoving the spoon into his mouth again. His aim is a bit off, and chocolate ice cream paints the corner of one side of his mouth.
Without pausing to think about it, I put my bowl down and crawl to him. “You are the best brother. Ash is so lucky to have you.” Before he can respond, I lick the ice cream off his face and press my lips to his. He kisses me eagerly, and I plunge my tongue into his mouth, groaning as the taste of ice cream and Dillon explodes on my tongue. He puts his bowl down on the floor without breaking our lip-lock, and I’m impressed. Grabbing my hips, he repositions me until I’m straddling him, and our kissing grows more frantic.