Page 22 of Nothing At All

Hitching my chin higher, I met her gaze and held it long enough to remind her that she wasn’t in charge here.

Finally, I turned to my car and slid into the driver’s seat, feeling their icy stares until I pulled out of the lot and Coney’s sparse traffic swallowed me up.

Chapter Seven

Lila

I didn’t want to spend my evening, my time with Dan, talking about her. I hated that I was even thinking about her, especially considering what we’d just done in my bed.

Pleasure still thrummed through my body, pulsing between my legs, but irritation crept in. Coney was a small town with limited restaurant choices, offering too many chances she might intrude on a night we’d finally carved out after two weeks of Dan being on second shift.

I pressed my lips to his chest, inhaling the warmth of his skin mingled with a hint of his soap from his morning shower. He tightened his arm about me. I glanced upward to find his face relaxed, eyes closed. “What if we stayed in?”

He played with the ends of my hair, not opening his eyes. “You want to?”

“Yes.” I shifted to my belly and propped on my elbows. “We can order in, watch a movie . . .”

“I’m game.” He caressed the back of my head, fingers rubbing my scalp, and I wanted to purr. The corner of his mouth hitched like he knew. More and more, he grew confident with me, and I liked that. “Care if I jump in your shower?”

“No.” I stretched against him, pointing my toes toward the end of the bed.

“You could join me.”

“I’ll order pizza for us and get in after.” I reached up to kiss him, softening the rejection. I wanted his scent on me a little longer. That was new for me. With everyone else I’d dated or hooked up with, I wanted to freshen up immediately. Something about him, the way I was with him, was different.

“Okay.” He stole another kiss, then rolled out of bed. Still propped on my elbows, I watched him stroll into the bathroom, muscles flexing in his thighs and ass, and hugged the lingering sense of pleasure close, the mosquito that was Nicole swatted away for now.

Somewhere on the floor, his phone vibrated.

Swinging my legs over the side of the mattress, I rose and tugged on his undershirt, wrapping the smell of his day about me – his soap, a hint of male that was just him, a slight tinge of disinfecting air freshener from his patrol car. I’d left my phone on the kitchen counter with my purse, and I padded through to grab it, hardwoods cool under my feet.

In the delivery app, I started an order from Nick’s. Yes, he’d had it for lunch, but that had been pasta. Tonight would be a pizza with everything–

My ring tone cut through the air, Samantha’s name on the screen. Smiling, I tapped to answer her video call. “Hi!”

“Hey, girly.” My college roommate, Delta Rho sister, and friend grinned at me. With her dark hair piled on her head, she lounged on her couch. “What are you doing?”

“Ordering a pizza.” With her pic in the corner of my screen, I selected toppings in the app. “Dan’s in the shower. We’re going to have a night in and watch a movie.”

“Very domestic.” Lips pursed in a smirk, Samantha tapped her jaw. “You have a little beard burn right there. And he’s in the shower? I know what you’ve been up to. Teaching him a thing or two.”

I swallowed a sigh. Probably, I shouldn’t have shared about Dan’s lack of bedroom experience during a wine-fueled gabfest, but Samantha and I swapped most every detail of our lives, a throwback to our time together at UGA. “Grow up.”

She snorted, lifting her wineglass and swirling the ruby liquid in punctuation. “Listen, I’m a little jealous. You’ve got raw material there. You can train him however you want, teach him to be great in bed. Think of it as community service so he’ll know what to do with the next woman in his life.”

Frowning, I squinted at our order. That idea – the next woman in his life – stuck in my throat like a spiky lump. I mean, logically, there would be a next woman because my imaginings of a possible future with him, or any man, were hazy. These relationships, the college ones and the right-after-college ones, were for practice.

“Can we not talk about his next woman?” I tapped to order then maximized Samantha’s window so she filled my screen. “Right now, I’m his woman.”

She quirked a brow. “It’s not like you’re going to marry the guy.”

I darted a look toward the doorway. Beyond my living room, the shower still ran. Propping the refrigerator open with my hip, I grabbed a romaine heart and a chunk of parmesan. “I might.”

“Be serious.” Samantha rolled her eyes and lifted her wine for a long swallow. “I know you. This guy is nothing at all like the man you’ll marry.”

“What are you talking about?” Slapping the hapless head of lettuce on my cutting board, I took a knife to the romaine, chopping aggressively. “You don’t know him.”

“You do? After six months? Lila Elizabeth.” Samantha lifted a handful of popcorn to her mouth. “You’ll marry someone like your dad. Ambitious, grounded, financially secure.”