“Define okay. I think Kinzie's going to be the fucking death of me. But this … to be straight-up honest with you, I haven't got a goddamn clue what it is.” Zayden lifts his shirt up, sniffs it, then shrugs his broad shoulders loosely, twisting the fabric up to glance at his bare chest underneath. The sight of all that skin brings back thought obliterating memories. “Ah, okay. Cat scratch.” I notice a dark red gash between Zay's pecs. “Well that explains the hell outta that, huh?”
“The kids were okay for you?” I ask, hoping to God that he'll drop his shirt back into place. The whole sex thing is awkward enough as it is without him flashing me like that.
“Your kids?” he asks as he finally folds his white t-shirt over the wound and raises his pierced eyebrow. “Your two are, like, fucking seraphic compared to those other ones.” Zayden pauses and nibbles his lip for a moment. “Except for the baby. I like the baby.”
“Good, good.” I stop swinging my keys and clutch them in the heat of my palm, remembering suddenly how good Zayden's nipples felt when I was teasing them with my fingers. Damn. My body feels addicted to his, like I could go another round or two or seven.
“So,” he says gesturing as he moves over to the back door and leans against it to open it for me. “Tell me about your big night. I want all the deets.”
“Deets?” I raise my brows but slip past Zayden into the kitchen. The most logical, rational part of me wants to tell him to go home again, but that's not fair to the kids. He's doing me a huge favor here and he shouldn't have to wake up a six month old, two four year olds, and a seven year old just because I'm having trouble controlling my hormones.
“Yup. Deets. The down and dirty. The skinny. I want it all.” Zayden gestures at me with his tattooed fingers in a come on gesture, the word EASY flashing upside down at me from his knuckles. I watch him as he turns and opens the fridge, grabbing a plate of premade peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He plops them down on the table between us as I stare, not entirely sure what's happening right now. “Milk?” he asks as he lifts up a jug. I nod slowly and pull out a seat as Zay brings two glasses over and sets them down, yanking out a chair and spinning it around so he can lean forward and cross his arms over the back.
Zay stares at me from his pale green eyes for a long, quiet moment before reaching forward and peeling the plastic wrap off the plate. He grabs a sandwich with the crust cut off and hands it to me. I take it gingerly and look down, wondering when the last time I had a PB&J was.
“There weren't that many people in the club,” I say as I realize there's light music trickling into the room. It's some Avril Lavigne song that makes me wrinkle my nose. “The other girls were complaining the whole time, but honestly, it was a huge relief.”
“They teach you to dance or did you just shake your shit?” Zay asks with a smile that clearly says his words are a joke. I take a tentative bite of my sandwich and chew it carefully. Perfect jelly to peanut butter ratio. Nice.
“Believe it or not, when I lived in So Cal, my friends thought it'd be hot to take pole dancing classes.” I shrug my shoulders. “Guess it's coming in handy.”
“Oooh. Well, I'd pay to see that.” He winks at me and grabs a sandwich, shoving half of it in his mouth before he starts chewing. One more bite and that sucker's gone completely. I nibble at mine as he drains the entire glass of milk in one go. “So … it went well then?”
“It went okay. I would never want my nieces to have to go through anything like this, but yeah. It was fine. I can do this—for a little while anyway.” I keep chewing on my sandwich as Zay taps his fingers in time to the shitty pop music that's playing. I guess we're not going to mention the sex which is good because I have no idea how to bring it up or if I even should bring it up. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask, not because I'm trying to be rude. I just don't get it. This guy, he doesn't owe me anything at all.
Zay tilts his head at me and then runs the fingers of his right hand over the shaved side of his head.
“Why wouldn't I be? You want me to act like a dick?”
“No, I was just curious.” Zayden shrugs and then laces his fingers together behind his head.
“I know girls say they like assholes and all that, but really, ya get more flies with honey, Miss Overland.” Another wicked slow smile and a wink. “I've never had any trouble getting women by being friendly, you know? But since we had sex this afternoon, I can be a prick if you want.”
I throw the last corner of my sandwich at him, but all it does is make him laugh. I figure it takes a lot to faze this guy.
“Can I see your work attire?” he asks me, eyes twinkling, leaning forward and peering at my tank and jeans with a burning expression that makes me squirm. “I mean, if I'm spending the night and you're spending the night and you did just let me take your virginity …”
“Are you … serious?” I ask, but I can't help the warm flush that takes over my body. I feel my thighs suddenly clenching tight and my breath fluttering with excitement. My turn to lean forward over the table. “You want to sleep together … again?”