“Come here, Murph. Let’s go back to Melrose’s room.” She swoops down to grab him before telling me she’ll be right back, and I hear her open and close a couple of doors.
I take a seat, running my palms along what feels like velvet. The tick of some clock in another room echoes in the dark, quiet space. Several minutes later, Maritza returns, a folded blanket in her arm topped with a white pillow.
“Thanks.” I take them from her and begin converting her sofa to a makeshift bed. All I need are a few hours of shut eye and then I’ll be out of her hair before the sun comes up.
Maritza saunters toward the kitchen a second later, opening the fridge to retrieve two bottles of water, and it’s only then I notice she’s wearing a skimpy, damn near transparent pink tank top with matching shorts. She must have changed when she grabbed my bedding. How I missed this, I have no idea, but now I can’t stop staring at her long legs, the curve of her lower back, and the way her top clings to her perfect tits.
I shake myself out of it when she returns and hands me a bottle of Fiji water.
It’s funny … an hour ago she was ripping my head off and spitting down my neck and now she’s doing everything she can to ensure that I’m comfortable and can get home safely.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask.
“Don’t get it twisted. The pillows and blankets are so you don’t drool all over my velvet sofa cushions and the water is so you don’t wake me up in the middle of the night stumbling through my kitchen just because you’re thirsty.”
“Thank you,” I say, silently admiring her comeback. I deserved that.
“Sorry about your shirt,” she says a second later. “You want a different one?”
I shake my head. “It’s dry now.”
My eyes adjust enough that I can see the velvet I’ll be sleeping on tonight is a vibrant shade of what appears to be emerald green. I’ve slept a lot of places in my life—buses, airports, pup tents, floors … but never on the emerald green velvet sofa of a complete stranger who served me pancakes and rear ended me and then threw a glass of water at me after I so generously secured her a VIP pass to see her favorite band perform.
“Thanks again for the ticket,” she says, one hand resting on her hip. The hem of her tank top lifts up just enough to expose a hint of soft skin. “I had a good time. All things considered.”
I smirk. “All things considered meaning … me.”
Maritza rolls her eyes. “Basically.”
“You still mad at me?”
“I can’t be mad at you, Isaiah. I don’t know you.” She exhales, head tilting and dark hair curtaining the side of her face.
Part of me can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened had this night gone in a different direction and she hadn’t blown up at me. Maybe I had her all wrong. Here I thought she was this doormat, this Pollyanna ray of sunshine but it turns out there might be more to her than meets the eye.
Not to mention the best sex I ever had was with a girl who hated my fucking guts.
Talk about fire and ice.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, shifting as she adjusts the fallen spaghetti strap on her left shoulder.
I don’t answer, I simply shrug. What am I supposed to tell her? I’m looking at her because she’s standing there in sheer pajamas and I’m a fucking red-blooded American man who gets instantly aroused by the fact that she doesn’t want me?
Maritza rolls her eyes. “What are you thinking about?”
“You don’t want to know.” I release a held breath and my gaze falls to her full mouth for a fraction of a second. But I’m baiting her. You tell a girl she doesn’t want to know what you’re thinking and it’s only going to make her want to know that much more.
Reverse psychology 101.
“Try me.” Her head tilts and I decide it’s adorable as fuck.
Yeah. This girl is sexy. I’ll admit it. When I first saw her in the restaurant two days ago, I silently appreciated her finely crafted exterior, the curves and the lingering glances, but a couple of interactions with her and I knew she wasn’t the kind of girl I was in the market for, so I pushed the thought from my mind.
But this … this is a pleasant little twist in our strange little story.
My fingers form a peak as I blow a breath through them and our eyes catch. “I was thinking about how if you were any other girl and you didn’t make it crystal clear that you despise me, I’d have kissed you by now.”