“What do you think?” She propped her hands on her hips, and that’s when I noticed she was chilled in the cooler air of my house. I tried to keep from it, but my gaze trekked to her nipples pressing against her RU T-shirt.
“Do you mind?” She thrust the towel at me and I accepted it, following her out of the bathroom.
“Not at a-all,” I mumbled.
In the kitchen I opened the fridge and made an executive decision. I pulled out two beers instead of one. To my surprise, she accepted the other bottle when I offered.
“Sure, why not? After my day, I need it.” She slid onto one of the stools at the island and drank as I took a few deep gulps from mine.
Watching her delicately sip from a longneck could be the highlight of my evening…but I hoped not. If I had my way—and I would as soon as I took her mind off treating me—I’d be making out long and slow with her.
I could use another bite of that bottom lip.
“Oh, hey, I know what we could try.” She smiled and I became instantly worried. “Singing.”
“Ssssinging.” Shit. Three to one. I was losing.
“Not really singing, but one of the warm-ups involves a tongue exercise and you do this: la la la la la la.”
“That’s singing,” I forced out, then gave myself two points. Tied.
Her smile was pretty, almost flirty. She pulled in a breath to speak, but I didn’t feel like being a patient. So I palmed her hand, and when she met my eyes, I tipped my head toward the big gray sofa in the living room.
She slid from the stool but dropped my hand to snag her pack and bring it with her. Not what I wanted, but at least she followed. We sat on the couch, and when she put the pack between us, I moved it to the floor and patted the cushion between us.
“What are you—?”
“You c-came to tuh-talk.” I swallowed and pushed out my request. “Talk.”