She lifted her ponytail, revealing the length of her neck. I tried, honest to God, I tried, but I couldn’t resist dipping my eyes down to her chest. Two of the most perfect nipples were tickling the threadbare fabric of her T-shirt. I wanted to know what color they were.
My mouth watered.
She dropped her arms and crossed them over her breasts. A second later I heard a peeved “Excuse me.”
Realizing I was staring, I jerked my eyes away from her breasts. Because nipples. Seriously. Help me.
“I guess I should invite you in to talk.” She threw a dismissive hand in the air and the movement jiggled parts of her I was desperately trying not to focusing on. “Or mime. Whatever.”
She turned and walked inside. A stir of interest came from my pants at the sight of her round ass in those shorts. I sent a gaze toward the open staircase, figuring it would be best if I turned around and left.
But my alternative was going home by myself. Playing video games or fucking around online. Unless Paul was awake and wanted to talk about everything or, worse, nothing. A heart-to-heart with my dad was not my idea of a fun night.
So I followed her inside.
Her place was freaking nice. When Dev had given me the address, courtesy of Rena, who recited it without argument, he’d never mentioned Tasha lived in a swanky apartment. Made my makeshift bungalow above my dad’s garage look like I’d carved two squares into the side of a box.
The living room and kitchen were both gray, with black flat-front cabinets in the kitchen and an island with a stainless steel sink in the center. I turned my head to take in her third-floor view, impressed by the spacious balcony and her furniture. There was no hand-me-down anything in here. Her L-shaped couch was deep charcoal, the pillows a soft pink color that reminded me of her skin tone.
I was out of place here. Especially in my uniform for Oak & Sage. I stepped up to the kitchen counter and tried to look more relaxed than I felt.
“Pizza in ten minutes. Interested?” She turned on the oven light and peeked in.
I was starving. I’d come straight from work. After bottling my anger rather than taking it out on Hamilton’s face, my mood had been thoroughly soured. As I watched Tasha sip wine, her breasts flirting with the cotton shirt, I considered my mood had now gone the same direction as my dick. Up.
Way up.
“Wine?” she offered.
I grimaced.
“No, I guess you aren’t a wine guy, are you?” she said to herself. She pulled open the fridge—a fancy stainless steel double-doored monster—and murmured, “Let’s see…What do former prelaw frat boys drink?”
I swallowed a smile, my first of the evening, and rested my hands on the kitchen island. This room was huge for an apartment. My entire living space would fit in the front room. Much as I wanted to dislike her for giving me hell about my college past, I sort of liked her ribbing me for it.
“Hmm,” she hummed, her head hidden behind the refrigerator door. “I don’t seem to have a keg in here. And I’m fresh out of Mad Dog.” She pulled her head out and shot over a smile that disarmed me…save the sword in my pants. That fucker was fully armed.
I adjusted myself when she turned around and tried to think of anything but my physical needs. Or that I was ridiculously attracted to Tasha Montgomery. It was much more convenient when I’d foolishly believed I could get her into my bed for one night. Now getting in her pants would require us seeing each other afterward.
I tried to make that sound bad in my head, but couldn’t.
“Fancy beer is all I have.” She came out with a bottle and handed it to me. “I don’t even drink it, but I thought if someone came over, it’d be polite to have options.” She shrugged, looking sad for a moment. My heart lurched. I didn’t like when Tasha looked sad. “Anyway. Hope you like IPAs.” One eyebrow tilted. “Extra bitter. Kind of like you.”
And she was back.
I felt another smile take my mouth, which shocked the hell out of me after the night—the last two nights—I’d had.
I reached for the corkscrew, flipped it around to the bottle opener on the end, and cracked the lid off the beer. I took a generous sip as Tasha watched me curiously. Maybe hopefully. Little did she know, I wasn’t all PBR all the time. I could drink a beverage not served out of a red Solo cup.
“You’re welcome.” She lifted her wineglass, then added, “You have a dimple.”
She’d noticed. Interesting.
She pointed at her own cheek and smiled. No dimples for her. “Yours made a rare appearance just now.”
That’s when the air charged between us. There was sexual tension hovering in the room, and it wasn’t only coming from me. It was in the way she darted her eyes from mine, in the soft pink hue that stole her cheeks.
No matter what, I was going to convince her to let me have a taste of that mouth before I left.