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When I got home, Conleigh was curled up on the couch with a bottle of wine. Those fucking socks she drives me wild with were sliding down her legs. It would have been easy to take advantage. It would have been easy to seduce her in her heartbroken state, but I didn’t do that.
Taking up her feet in my hands, I place them on my thighs as I sit down. She looks at me with teary eyes as I rub her feet and tug her socks back up to her knees.
“Rough day?”
She snorts and wipes her face with the sleeve she has balled up in her fist. Her dark hair is in that tiny knot on her head that I would love to rip down and comb my fingers through as I kiss her like there is no tomorrow.
“I got an offer.”
“What?” Did he call and tell her what he told me to do at the bar?
“My book. I got an offer.” She smiles.
I clear my throat. That isn’t what I was expecting, but it’s good. More than good. “That’s great, Con. Told you your words were good.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You read one passage.”
“You gonna let me read the whole thing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you gonna take the offer. What did they say?” I genuinely want to know. My fingers continue brushing up and down her sock, wishing I could peel them off her and kiss my way up her body, tasting every inch of her.
“I turned down the offer. It’s not a good deal. I talked it over with a friend I made online, she’s a writer. She’s big time. Her first book sold one million copies and she’s so amazing at giving me advice,” she spiels.
“I’m proud of you.”
“You know you are the first person who has ever told me that about my writing.”
“Well, I mean it. We should celebrate.”
She scoots further down on the couch and stretches her legs out, pointing her toes toward the wall. My hand automatically moves above her knee. Her skin is so damn silky, smooth…tempting. “What do you have in mind?” She asks, raising a brow at me and reaching me her wine.
“I don’t drink this shit.” I grin and move my hand before I move it to the hem of her tiny shorts she’s wearing. I take the bottle and sit it on the coffee table.
“Yeah, I’m kind of tired anyway.” She pulls her feet back and sits up, stretching her arms over her head. The shirt she’s wearing rides up over her stomach, showing off another butterfly tattoo on her hip bone.
“Why do you love butterflies so much?” I trace my finger over her blue winged ink and she shivers.
She beams at me. “My dad. My real dad. Not that dick, Ronald that my mom is with now. When I was a kid, he’d get me on the weekends and he would take me to the butterfly garden. He always called me his little caterpillar. Anyway, it was the only time where it was just me and my dad and it seemed so magical. Like we were in another land. A place where no one could take me away from him. I wanted to live with him, but he fucked up and he’s in prison.”
“Damn, that sucks. I’m sorry.”
She shrugs with a sad smile. “It is what it is. I made my peace with him a long time ago. I actually visited him the other day. I got to spend the day with him. It was the first time I had seen him in thirteen years,” she confides, and I want to wrap my arms around her.
“That must have been intense.”
“It was nice. My mom wasn’t too happy with me and well, that is one of the reasons I was fired. I called in to spend the day with him and well. I could use that job, if the offer still stands.”
“I’d do anything for you, Conleigh. Does Ezra know about this book deal?”
She shakes her head, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. “Ezra is complicated. I shouldn’t even be here tonight. Not really. Not after everything that has happened.”
I need to hear the words come from her mouth. I want her to say she’s done with him. “What happened?”
“Can I talk to you about it and you be…I don’t know…unbiased.”