Page 64 of Scoring Eden

Her eyes widen to a comical degree. “Wh-what?”

“We can cuddle and shit.”

Her mouth opens, closes, opens again.

God, she’s so easy to wind up. Every time I make even the slightest inuendo, she blushes the shade of a fire truck.

“I’m kidding.”

I’m not trying to make her uncomfortable, but she looks so pretty when she’s flustered. All rosy cheeks and wide eyes. There’s no real intention behind my flirting. Not that I wouldn’t go for it if I thought she was interested in me that way. My blood runs hot, and I wasn’t lying when I told her weeks ago that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch,” I tell her to put her at ease. “The room is all yours.”

“You can’t do that. You’re already helping us out by having us stay here. I can’t kick you out of your own bedroom too.”

“Sure, you can.”

“But—”

“But nothing. When was the last time you slept in a proper bed?”

Gone is the playfulness in her expression, replaced by a look of longing. And as much as I’d love to say that it’s directed at me, unfortunately it’s my mattress that has pulled her focus.

Her lip gets lost between her teeth as she wars with herself.

“Do you want to try it?” I ask. “It’s a bit different from a pull-out couch. You might hate it, and then we won’t have a problem.”

“You’re right.” She smiles. “I’ll definitely miss the back pain. And the broken springs that try to puncture holes in me every night.”

“You might have better luck sleeping on the floor.”

She stares unblinking at the bed, her nose wrinkled, her son continuing to belt show tunes in the other room. “I should lie on it now, though, right? Just to be sure.”

“Absolutely. This isn’t a decision to take lightly.”

But she still doesn’t move, just continues to stare at the bed like it’ll disappear if she dares look away.

“Eden?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you need a hand getting in there?”

“Wha—” The word gets lodged on her tongue as I scoop her up by her thighs and toss her backward into the sheets. She squeals, flailing in the air before landing in a cloud of Egyptian cotton, arms splayed out on either side of her.

Silence.

Then the most erotic moan of pleasure I’ve ever heard in my life.

“Shit, make that sound again.”

Her eyes narrow into slits. “You’re a pervert.”

“Can’t help it.” I hold my hands up. “There’s a gorgeous woman in my bed. You can’t be making noises like that.”

She really, really can’t.

Just the sight of her lying there with her hair fanned out around her and her cheeks flushed pink from the fall is presenting me with an issue. A hard, eight-and-a-half inch issue.