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Caleb raised a brow, then did his best imitation of me. “Mom and Dick won’t make us stay at a dorm…Do you know how many people would kill to get a room at Astor?”
“Yeah.” I screwed my nose up. “But we’re not just people.”
“See, you’re a snob.”
I rolled to my side and propped my head up on my hand. “It’s not snobbish, it’s realistic. You just don’t like to admit it.”
“Shut up. I’m not a snob.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking around the enormous room. “Do you not live here? In a penthouse on Park Avenue?”
“You know what I mean.” Caleb turned to look up at me, and Jesus, his face was so close to mine in this position. His eyes tracked over my features as though he were searching my expression to make sure I understood what he was telling me. But I was too blinded by how fucking gorgeous he was to get the message.
“I don’t belong here,” he continued, no doubt meaning the penthouse, but if he knew where my brain had detoured, he’d definitely be talking about lying so close to me.
His stepbrother. Who was hard as a steel pipe for him.
“I always saw myself more in Soho or Chelsea, you know, the arty areas.”
“Right.” I blinked, trying to get my brain to focus on something other than how full his lips were and the way he kept licking them. “I could see that.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure.”
“Would you ever think about living there?”
“In Soho?”
“Yes.” Caleb started to laugh. “With me. Are you even listening to me?”
“I am, but…”
He cocked his head to the side, his grin widening. “The tequila’s caught up to you, hasn’t it?”
“Maybe.” My voice was quiet as I ran my gaze over the flush of his cheeks and where it trailed down his neck into the collar of his shirt.
“Travis?”
“Huh?”
“You okay?”
No, I fucking wasn’t. I was about two seconds away from doing something really stupid, but before I could move away, Caleb reached up and put a hand to my forehead, and I froze.
Fuck.
“You’re burning up.”
Yeah, for you…The words were on the tip of my tongue, dying to roll off, but then he trailed his fingers down to my cheek.
“Do you feel okay? Do you think you had too much to drink?”
IknewI’d had too much to drink, because the thoughts swirling through my head were ones I’d been squashing for months, and now they were taking control—of my mind, body, and dick.
Words got stuck in my throat as I reached up, planning on pushing his hand away because his fingers were still on my face. Once I had a hold of his wrist, though, I couldn’t let go. His pulse was steady beneath my thumb, but the longer I stared up at him and he stared back, the faster it seemed to get.
Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe it was the deep, dark hope I kept tucked away that was somehow creeping out now. But there was no denying the way the crease between his brows eased, his worry over my wellbeing subtly changing into something I’d never seen in his expression before.
