The Trouble With Quarterbacks - R.S. Grey Page 0,46
really interested in.”
“Oh.”
He seems to have left off the part that’s most important.
That he’s willing to do that for me means he is interested in me. Very much so.
He nods his chin toward me. “Are you all the way over there for a reason?”
I look down at my stockinged feet on the smooth wood floor and wiggle my toes. I’m as far from him as I can be without having my back pinned to the windows.
“Yes. A few reasons, actually.”
His brow quirks, asking me to provide them.
“Well first, I don’t trust myself with red wine on that fancy sofa.”
“I don’t care about the sofa.”
I gulp.
“And also…” I let my finger drag around the rim of my glass, deciding to be painfully honest since we’ve both agreed we’re tired of games. “I wouldn’t mind continuing what we were doing in the kitchen, but I like this talking too, getting to know you and all that. So maybe keeping myself across the room is a good idea.”
“I can keep my hands to myself if you come and sit by me.”
Bollocks. That’s on par with a lion sitting right beside a nice juicy steak and swearing it’s a vegetarian. I can practically see him licking his chops.
He must sense my doubt because he pats the cushion beside him. “I’ll prove it.”
Oh, I’ll just bet.
I make a big show of crossing the room toward him, holding my wine gently so it doesn’t splash over the rim and onto the rug. Then I perch delicately on the edge of the sofa cushion beside him. It’s not close enough for his liking, apparently, because he laughs and tugs me back, closer to him. My dress gets hiked up a little bit, but I’m too scared to adjust it because I think it’ll draw his attention and then this whole farce will end.
“Relax,” he insists, and I puff out a breath of air as if to say, Not bloody likely!
I suppose I have to try at least. I reach my feet out to attempt to prop them up on the coffee table, but it’s too far away. My toes wiggle in my stockings, and he laughs and leans forward to drag it closer then props his feet up beside mine. There. Now we’re sitting side by side, not touching, not really, but desperately wanting to. It’s obvious. It’s in the air somehow, permeating the space between us. I swear the atmosphere is crackling like there’s lightning in here, not just out there in the storm.
It’s then that I notice how hard the rain is coming down now. It’s taunting me, as if to say, Candace, you aren’t going anywhere, which means Logan is feeling mighty confident.
He moves his wine to his opposite hand and sets his free hand right between us, palm up. I stare down at it like it might bite me.
He waggles his fingers tauntingly, and I can’t help but laugh.
Still, I don’t give in to the urge to touch him. Instead, I gulp my wine and then ask him, “Just how long do you plan on keeping me here? What if it rains all night?”
“Let’s just call it then. I think you should stay. It’s easier. You can sleep here then Pat can drive you to your apartment in the morning so you can get your things before work.”
“Sleep here? Ha! You’re rather sure of yourself. A ham sandwich and one glass of wine and now suddenly it’s knickers off for a sleepover?”
He smiles, a cocky little grin that does my head in. “I’ll sleep out here.” He points to the sofa cushion. “You can have my bed.”
I roll my eyes. “No one will sleep on the sofa. There’re fifty-some odd beds in this place. I’ll just take a guest room…if I stay.”
“When you stay.”
“I’ll need to phone my flatmates. They’re probably worried about me.”
He pushes off the sofa, walks into the kitchen, and strolls back out with my mobile from my purse. He hands it to me as he sits back down, a few inches closer to me this time.
Right. Well. He’s quite pushy, isn’t he?
I phone Yasmine because she generally has her mobile on her more than Kat does. She answers quickly and there’s a good bit of moaning in the background, so much so that I’m worried I’ve caught her in the middle of a shagging session with some bloke.
“What is it?” she huffs, annoyed. “I’ve just found the best porn and you’re ruining the best part. The lad’s got her