I blush. I don’t need to do anything to boost his ego. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but damn. There’s a definite sexuality to seeing him dirty and shirtless from a day of working on cars, but this look is perfectly sexy too. He even seems to have run a comb through his hair. Even in the dress shirt and pants, his masculinity is plain to see. He has enough buttons undone to show his tanned skin and the crease of muscle in the center of his chest. His sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearms so that his powerful muscles are on display. And the way the dress pants hug his muscular legs is mouth watering.
“Come on in,” he says, placing his big hand on my back, coaxing me inside.
The touch should be innocent. Maybe it is to him. But it sends heat pulsing from where his hand touches through my entire body, electrifying my nerves and sending me into overdrive. My mind calls up the images that have been replaying ever since the night of the festival. Bare, muscular skin. Piercing green eyes. A cock so perfect it has to be make-believe. Something daring and wild inside me wants to do a little research tonight, to compare notes, so to speak. The only way I’ll know what really happened is if I get a glimpse beneath those clothes of his.
I follow him into the kitchen, blushing at my own thoughts. That’s all they are. Thoughts. The truth is I’m not bold enough to make any kind of move. I’m just realizing coming over here was more dangerous than I thought. If Reid is planning to get me into his bed, my ability to resist is going to be laughable right now. I’m too confused and too drawn to him. With all the uncertainty in my life right now, it’s hard not to cling to the clear message my body is sending when I’m around Reid. And that message has sex written all over it.
Seeing Roman at the table coloring sobers me up like a splash of cold water. No matter how attracted I am to Reid, he’s still my best friend’s ex. If Tara ever found out something happened between us, she would never forgive me. Even if she’s far from being a pillar of trust and loyalty, I don’t want to hurt her.
“Hi,” says Roman.
“Hey there,” I say.
“Daddy makes the best spaghetti.”
“Is that right?” I ask.
Reid moves into the kitchen and holds up a jar of store-bought sauce. There’s an opened box of noodles and steam rising from a pot on the stovetop beside him. “What can I say. I follow instructions like a champ.”
I grin. If this meal impresses Roman, Reid’s cooking skills probably don’t extend far beyond the microwave. I get a sudden urge to bake something for them. I want them to taste my cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven. Watching Reid strain the pasta and listening to Roman hum is doing treacherous things to my mind. It’s making me start to imagine what life would be like if I was part of their family. Me and my unborn child. I could bake fresh cinnamon rolls for them in the morning. Reid would slide out of bed with his hair in disarray and hug me from behind, kissing me on the cheek and thanking me…
I must really be losing it if I’m daydreaming about marrying Reid. He just needs to open his mouth and piss me off, which I know he will, to squash all these crazy ideas floating around in my head.
11
Reid
Sandra’s sitting at the table beside Roman. She’s facing me, but looking down at his coloring book. I can’t help noticing that I can see up her dress from where I stand, catching just a tantalizing hint of her white panties beneath that black dress. I’m hard as a rock in an instant, and my cock isn’t the easiest to conceal when it’s hard. I smirk down at the steaming pile of pasta in the sink, carefully turning my hips slightly to avoid flashing her with the unmistakable bulge of my hard-on.
I plate up three portions and wait until she’s saying something to Roman before bringing them over to the table. I catch one more glimpse of her panties as I turn and it feels like my cock is about to explode from the pressure. It’s hard to tell in the dim light beneath the table, but I think she’s wearing cotton panties. The possibility is driving me wild. If I made her wet, those panties would stick to her like glue. I’d have to peel them off to get my mouth on her.
Fuck.
I wish I could remember more from the night of the festival. If I don’t ever get between her legs again, getting drunk that night will go down as one of my biggest regrets. Not remembering sex with her is unforgivable, and the only remedy is to take another shot. Marrying her wouldn’t hurt, either.
I push that thought down. I don’t want this to be manipulative. I may come off as a prick most of the time, but even I don’t want to trick someone into marrying me.
I hope she will keep her eyes on Roman’s coloring book as I move toward the table but she looks up. Her eyes scan me from head to toe and widen slightly when they settle on my massive erection. I can’t help smirking a little at the shock on her face.
“Uh, bon appétit,” I say, quickly sitting down, unable to stop picturing how sexy the view up her dress was.
She clears her throat and flashes a quick smile, looking down at her plate.
The uncomfortable silence is interrupted by a loud slurp as Roman sucks in a huge portion of spaghetti. Marinara sauce splatters on his shirt and covers his face in seconds. Sandra grabs a napkin and reaches to clean it up, but I wave her off.
“Don’t bother,” I say. “It’s easier to just dump him into the bathtub when he’s done. There’s no stopping the mess.”
Sandra grins and puts down the napkin, trying a bite of the spaghetti.
“How is it?” I ask.
“It’s good,” she says. “Are you going to just watch me eat, or…”
I chuckle, digging into my own portion. After a few seconds I stand up, realizing I forgot drinks. “Want a beer? Wine?”
“I’ll take a water,” she says pointedly.
I catch a little bite in her words and wonder if she’s holding a grudge over what happened when we had too much to drink at the festival. I guess I couldn’t blame her if she was. I’m about to grab a beer for myself when I think twice, realizing I don’t want to make the mistake of dulling my senses again. Not around her.
I fill up two glasses of water and pour Roman some Kool-Aid. I swear the kid’s blood is probably half Kool-Aid. I can’t get him to stop drinking it. I think he’d honestly just let himself die of thirst before he gave it up.
I still can’t get my dick to calm down, but I’m past caring. Sandra is hot as hell, and she has to know it. I can have a hard-on if I want to. She’ll just have to deal with it. When I turn to walk back to the table I notice her legs are spread a little wider, giving me an even clearer shot up her dress. I nearly drop the glasses when I catch the mischievous glint in her eye. She’s egging me on. The way her gaze drifts down to my cock only confirms it more.
I glance at the clock. Still two hours until I can put Roman down for bed. Damn. She’s going to blue ball me before she even touches me if she keeps this up.
“So,” says Sandra. “Do I get my keys back now?”
I set the glasses down, taking my seat again. “Sure,” I say. “As long as you keep me happy.”
“Keep you happy?” asks Sandra. “What does it take to keep you happy?” There’s a hint of playfulness in her voice, but also an edge of warning.
“Tickle his belly. He likes that,” says Roman in a matter-of-fact tone. He follows his advice with a big slurp of spaghetti.