“I’m here if you want to talk.”
“Thanks.” I gave his hand a squeeze. Against my will, I found my mind wandering to my parents’ brutal divorce a few years ago, which was the other part of the story. The part I was more comfortable allowing myself to remember. “My parents had the catastrophe of all divorces during my freshman year of college. They don’t speak at all anymore.”
“Is that the reason you’re a commitment-phobe?”
“It’s part of the reason.” A small part. “What about you? Are your parents still married?”
“I never knew my dad. He took off on my mom when she was pregnant with me. She was only eighteen.”
“Wow. That must have been hard.”
“Yeah, but we managed.” His jaw flexed, and I backed off, sensing he didn’t want to answer questions about his past any more than I did.
Cohen continued to hold my hand throughout the movie and I rested my head on his chest, content with the silence between us.
When the movie ended, he turned it off while I stretched out on his bed.
He looked down at me and smiled. “Tired?”
I nodded.
“I’ve got to take Bob out. I can walk you home, or…”
“Or?” My eyebrow quirked up.
“You could sleep over again.”
I grinned up at him despite my best attempt to act cool and unaffected. “You like having me in your bed, rather than Bob?”
He laughed. “Hell yeah, Easy E. You smell a lot better too.” He leaned down and sniffed my hair. “Yep. Like flowers and sunshine.”
“Your bed is insanely comfortable. Let me just go down and get pajamas while you’re walking Bob.”
“Cool.” He smiled, seemingly happy.
We headed downstairs, and while Cohen took a stroll around the block, I dashed inside and brushed my teeth, set the dishwasher to run overnight and then picked out the perfect pajamas to tempt Cohen.
A teeny tiny pair of hot-pink shorts with the word SEXY written across the butt and a white tank top that had been washed so many times it had shrunk to fit snugly, the thin cotton hugging my br**sts. Lastly, I stripped off my bra and hoisted the girls on display to show a little cle**age. There was no way Cohen wouldn’t notice these beauties. I giggled to myself and headed back outside.
Chapter 4
Cohen was waiting on my front porch to escort me back upstairs, Bob sitting by his side. Something tugged inside me. I liked that he’d waited rather than heading back upstairs without me. I’d started to feel slightly ridiculous about this slumber party, but when I saw him waiting patiently for me, all doubts were pushed from my mind. He wanted me to stay over just as much as I did. I couldn’t explain it, but maybe that was okay.
“Ready?” I locked my front door then turned to face him.
His eyes started at my face then travelled south, stopping at my chest. His lips parted just slightly and he inhaled a shaky breath. “Uh…yeah.” He ushered me against his side. “Cold?” He rubbed the length of my arm, unaware that my goose bumps had nothing to do with the chill in the air and everything to do with the desire I saw reflected in his eyes.
I was about to mutter something cute about him keeping me warm, when Bob chose that exact moment to stick his snout in the crotch of my shorts. Cohen chuckled and redirected the dogs face from between my legs.
Sheesh. Did I mention I hated dogs?
When we made it inside, Cohen got Bob settled for the night on the sofa, then directed me to his room. He waited for me to walk in ahead of him, and I couldn’t help giving my hips a little extra swing as I moved. Wearing those shorts out in public was probably illegal, considering the amount of leg—and even curve of butt cheek—that was peeking out from underneath.
I crawled onto the bed, my bottom hoisted up in the air on display. But when I got to my side of the mattress, and looked for Cohen’s reaction, he turned away quickly, and busied himself on the other side of his room, removing his jeans and folding them on top of the dresser.
I tugged the covers up around me.
We settled into bed, and Cohen rolled over to face me. “Is this weird—you staying here?”
I shook my head. “Not if we’re okay with it.”
He nodded.
Without realizing it, my hand had wandered onto his stomach. He shifted under my palm and inhaled sharply. I looked up and met his eyes. They were inquisitive and locked on mine. And even in the darkness of his bedroom, I could see his curiosity at what might happen next.
His hand came to rest at the base of my throat. It was heavy and warm. He lightly brushed his fingertips along my bare collarbone, tracing a lazy pattern on my skin. The roughness of his fingers against that soft, innocent patch of flesh set my heart racing. I wanted more.
I licked my lips, waiting. He bent his head down to mine, while at the same time burying his hand in my hair. He lightly kissed the corner of my jaw. “God you’re beautiful,” he murmured.
I swallowed roughly at his declaration. He was so open and honest. I didn’t want or need touching and romantic, but every caress, every gaze from Cohen felt like more. This was nothing like being with Stu and that scared the shit out of me.
I pressed my hand against his stomach, forcing him flat to the bed, then moved on top of him, one of my thighs on each side of his. He looked up at me, full of curiosity and desire. I leaned down and kissed his lips. His tongue found its way into my mouth and I pressed my hips into his while our tongues mingled and flirted. He was the perfect kisser. Not too timid, but not overeager either. His hand came up to cup my jaw and he tilted my head, finding the right angle to deepen the kiss. A wave of desire for him shot straight between my legs. I let out a ragged groan and Cohen placed his hands on my shoulders, applying pressure to break the kiss. I leaned back slightly and met his eyes. “Holy hell,” I muttered.