Page 53 of Lovestrung

Her eyes looked nervous as her lips formed a cautious smile. “You haven’t answered my question.”

I frowned as I opened the drawer underneath the table top. “It’s a little embarrassing,” I admitted, my voice quiet.

“Oh, God, now I really want to know why you do it.”

Chuckling, I shook my head. “You always were as curious as a kitten.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.”

“It’s meant as such.” I wet my lips and poured her glass and extended it to her. As I made my own, I lowered my gaze and took a deep breath. “I started calling you sunshine when we were just kids because that’s what you felt like to me – this cute, ballsy, best friend who lit up the room whenever she walked in and aimed her smile my way, warming me from the inside out.”

She gasped but I still didn’t meet her eyes.

“Darlin’ is for now, when you’re no longer only my best friend, but a young woman who makes my dick hard and I want to kiss and fuck all the time.”

“Holy. Shit,” she breathed.

Finally, I raised my eyes and smirked at her. Her hooded eyes and the blush in her cheeks was a great look on her; one I hoped to see later tonight. I took a sip of my wine and licked my lips. “Now you know.” I toasted her again, taking deep pleasure at the dazed look in her eyes and the way her breathing had turned heavy.

She fanned her cheeks and raised the glass to her lips. “That was deliciously dirty, Ethan. Even a little bit romantic.”

“Good.”

Her eyes turned speculative as she sipped her wine. “I never know what you’re going to say these days.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily. It’s just a little strange, considering I used to know you as well as I knew myself. Or, at least I thought I did.” She shrugged lightly and scanned the living room-slash-dining room at the wide space behind her. “I like discovering new things about you, though. Like this place.” She went to the couch before turning around to face me again. “I never thought your own place would look like this.”

I frowned, puzzled. “Why not?”

“It’s such a bachelor pad, but kind of elegant at the same time. Luxurious.” She sat down on the couch and sighed as she leaned back to rest her head on the soft, black leather. Her hand holding the wine glass balanced briefly on the armrest before she let it fall softly down the side, dangling the glass gently.

I pursed my lips as she scrutinized my face.

“I’ve always been good at saving up money, Penelope,” I answered her silent question. I knew it looked weird that a guy like me – someone who had come from the foster system and relied on scholarships to get him through college – lived at a place like this, but I couldn’t tell her about my job at Privé. It was way too early to tell her about that part of my life.

“I see.” She let it go and leaned her head back, taking in the intricate iron pattern in the ceiling that held so many light bulbs that even I had been skeptical about them when I first saw the place. But, somehow, they just fit the place – and me.

“Would you like to listen to some music while I finish up dinner?” I set down my glass and meandered to the bookshelf that held my docking station.

“Yes, please.”

“Anything in particular you’d like to hear?” I asked and pulled my phone out of my back pocket.

“Surprise me.”

“Hmm.” I scrolled through my many playlists until I found an older album by Norah Jones. Perfect. Penelope had always loved her music, so I put my phone down and hit play. I looked at the woman sitting so comfortable on my couch, and the way her eyes lit up when she recognized the first notes of Come Away With Me, I was happy I was the one responsible for putting it there.

“So,” I started and moved closer to her. “Any chance of a kiss before I go back to my domain?”

“Your domain?” she chuckled.

“The kitchen,” I clarified on a grin.

“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me, Ethan.”

“Hmm.” I leaned down, resting my hands on the back of the couch until our heads were as close as they could be and circled her nose with mine. “Careful, darlin’. That statement could lead to all sorts of things.”