“I doubt that very much.”
He smirked, turning his hip, and I finally felt his erection through the towel, long and hard.
“No doubt I’d like more, but I don’t want to rush you.”
Crestfallen, I leaned back, looking up at him. My eyes, damn them, were tear filled and ready to spill over.
“You don’t?” Should I be upset? I was upset, but should I be? He’d twisted me in a knot that only got tighter with each encounter with him.
He used the pads of his thumbs to brush away my tears. “No, Winnie, I want to take my time with you. You’re worth taking the time.” He pulled me to the edge, slowly letting me slip against the soft towel on the smooth warm metal frame of the dryer. His lips touched mine in a scorching hot kiss, pressing his hips deep into the cradle of mine, rubbing himself against me and torturing us both all over again.
Heat built between us, and I thought we might actually take it further when inhuman sounds found us. “Arrggh!” Banging on the door shook the shelves above me.
“Hey, open up, Mom wants the cloth table napkins. You better not have gizzed all over in there.” Chase’s sister killed the mood, rapping on the door relentlessly, demanding linens that must be kept in here.
Chase made a smacking sound of frustration with his lips, shaking his head no. “So, uh, have you met my sister Kristen? She’s a pervert and a pain in the ass.”
“Hmm. I wonder where she gets it from.” I bit my lip, willing my face to stop blushing, but it was useless because I felt the fire coating my skin.
“Now you see why?” he asked with an incredulous grin.
Slapping him on the chest, I pushed him back and hopped off the dryer on wobbly knees. “Give me my clothes back.”
He laughed, yelling at Kristen to get her panties out of a wade before opening the door. He held it open for me to exit less than gracefully into the kitchen and open-mouthed stares of both his sister and mom.
Oh hell.
Yeah, because nothing else would have been more awkward.
11
Chase
“Oh shit.” My mother narrowed her eyes at me, tapping her heeled foot while Winnie smoothed back her messy hair no thanks to me and my man hands tangling the locks. She hadn’t turned around yet to see my mother’s censure.
“Chase Miles Calloway. I raised you better than to maul a house guest in the mud room.” She’d put on her legal stare, and I felt my spine withering under her censure.
“Sorry mom.” Like a decent son, I felt the need to apologize.
Winnie turned suddenly looking pale and confused.
“Oh. Um Catherine?” Her mouth dropped open and I felt like I was in a bad television show.
“Hello, dear. I’m Chase’s mother. Judge Calloway.” Mom held out her hand, shocking me. Mom wasn’t touchy-feely, and I wondered what she did with her Lysol spray. Poor Winnie shook it hesitantly. I couldn’t blame her. Who the hell introduced themselves as “Judge?” My mother, Catherine Ann Calloway, the germaphobe, that’s who.
I felt it necessary to explain, I didn’t think everyone had a gavel wielding parent as common place.
“It’s a new appointment. Mom’s a lawyer in town,” I whispered in Winnie’s ear, feeling like an idiot trying to explain.
She grimaced with a wide fake smile, continuing to shake my mother’s hand. “Not helping, Chase,” she muttered under her breath with clenched teeth for my ears alone.
“Actually, we met at the Bridge club with your grandmother. So nice to see you again, although, it would be nice to know why my son is soaking wet.”
I stepped between them to break up the tension. We were definitely leaving as soon as possible.
“It’s Kristen’s fault. We got sprayed with the hose because she attacked Damien. We were drying our clothes.” I tried looking innocent, but my mother wasn’t stupid, and the look on her face suggested she’d call me later and chew my ass out for having naked guests in her house despite me being a man who turned thirty.
“Way to throw me under the bus, bro.”