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I arch a brow at him, playing coy. “Hmm. Maybe this apartment’s haunted. Because I’m sure I heard a moan.”
His jaw tenses, lips pressed tightly together. “Really? I’ve never heard anything like that here. Maybe you brought a ghost with you from Savannah. I heard that place is really haunted.”
I glower at him. “I did not bring a ghost with me, Colt. C’mon.”
He shrugs. “I dunno know how the supernatural works. Never really got into all that spooky crap. But I suppose it’s possible that it hitched a ride up here with you. Maybe the ghost wanted a change of scenery.” His eyes twinkle at his stupid ghost theory, and I heave out a breath of disbelief.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
He grins, his hands still on my upper arms. Only then do I realize his thumbs are smoothing over my skin in featherlight circles. And it feels surprisingly nice.
Dammit.
“Anyway.” I shake out of his embrace, his arms dropping to his side. “Dinner’s ready. Put your clothes on—preferably in the bathroom—before you come to the table this time.”
He shoots me a two-finger salute, smirking. “Got it, boss.”
I roll my eyes and stomp to the stove to serve the pasta while he gets dressed.
Colt Wild is annoying as anything. And even more so without a shirt on.
Because now all I can think about is what’s under that white fluffy towel around his narrow waist. Running my hands down all those hard ridges of his abs, straight down to the dick I have no right thinking about.
And now I have to sleep next to him, the dull ache between my legs throbbing with every thud of my heart, every inhale of his stupid masculine scent.
Good lord.
Maybe I do need to go crash at my brother’s until Colt moves out. A vision of sleeping on the fold-out couch in the freezing basement with a preschooler or two jumping on my head every morning runs through my head.
No, thanks.
No. I’m going to tough it out here, no matter how stupidly hot Colt is. He and his rippling muscles will not run me out of the apartment I’m paying good money for.
“Trix-ie—” He moans my name, long and slow in my ear, drawing every syllable out in his best spooky voice. Sending hot desire rippling through me, goosebumps rising on my arms as his breath skates over my cheek.
“Stop!” I spin around and smack him hard on his arm, his biceps solid.
“What? Wasn’t me.” His eyes widen, one hand pressed to his chest as he feigns innocence. “It was your ghost, I bet. The Savannah Specter.”
“Ha ha. Very funny. Grab your plate.” I shove the dish piled high with spaghetti in his direction and he grins cheekily.
“Did you make this yourself? Or did you get help from the Savannah Specter?”
“Shut up, Colt. You’re an idiot.”
“You better be nice or I won’t share my bed with you tonight.” He tips his head in the direction of the bed, which does look mighty comfy.
“You better shut up or I won’t cook you dinner ever again.”
“Oh. On that note—” He slides a finger across his lips, zipping them closed.
“Great. Stay like that through all of dinner and we’ll have a perfect night.”
He sticks his lip out, pouting like I hurt his feelings, and I can’t help but giggle. I’ve never seen this playful side of Colt, only the jerky adolescent side when he and my brother were in high school, binging all the food in the house and telling me to get lost. Ignoring me unless they wanted something, like one of my friends’ digits.
This Colt I kinda liked.
Not that I’m admitting that.
