Kylie huffed out a breath as he adjusted the comforter to cover them both. She’d been a little chilly, but the shiver that rippled over her skin had nothing to do with lack of body heat. Justin was so warm, his thighs muscled and hard. Almost as hard as the other part of him she’d rubbed against earlier.
That too was another aspect of him she couldn’t file away with the rest. The Justin she knew didn’t find her so arousing, especially not when she was disheveled and wet after taking a tumble into the snow.
Unless maybe she had him pegged all wrong. It had been years since college. Very long years.
“Need another drink?”
She shifted slightly. He’d donned a pair of shorts in deference to the simmering fire, and the bristly hair on his legs rubbed against the back of her calves. Why that sensation seemed so sexual, she didn’t know. “I knew it. You are trying to get me loaded.”
He eyed her speculatively as the opposing centers faced each other onscreen for the tip-off. “Actually, I’m not, but I think I’d like to see you drunk.”
“Why?”
“No inhibitions.”
She stiffened. She simply couldn’t help it. Damn, had he been peeping in the window of Rob’s place tonight? “I’m pretty uninhibited to start.”
He shrugged and let his gaze wander back to the TV, though he didn’t seem particularly interested in the game. “So you claim.”
Now wasn’t the time to argue the point. Why should he care about her inhibitions? He’d been all about straight-up missionary the one and only time they’d had sex. For God’s sake, she’d kissed him, and he’d pushed her away as if she were a magazine subscription and he wasn’t buying.
True, the situation hadn’t exactly been created for romance. But she wouldn’t have complained if passion overcame him.
His goading was just that. Maybe he was trying to distract her from her pain. Besides, there was a game on, and she didn’t have anything to prove.
Especially not to another pigheaded man.
They watched the first half in companionable silence. During halftime, he heated some more soup and brought her a mug of hot cocoa complete with marshmallows. After a bit more of the obligatory brandy, she settled in to enjoy the second half with Justin’s hands hooked around her ankles. Occasionally he fingered the ACE bandage on the left one, but he didn’t ask her again if she was all right. His gaze never left the TV until SU won.
“God, that was great.” She released a happy sigh as he aimed the remote and the screen went black. “Thanks for waiting to watch it with me.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve gotten used to watching them with you.”
“Mmm. Ditto.” Without the noise of basketball to fill the cavernous, mostly empty living room—apparently Justin believed in the minimalist look—the silence seemed even thicker. She didn’t get it. They never had problems talking normally. “So what now?”
He sat back and draped his arm over the back of the couch. “Kylie, what’s going on? Why haven’t you asked to go home yet?”
Because I don’t have one anymore.
“I thought we were having a good time.” She shrugged and tried to pull her legs off his lap, but his wide, rough palms held them in place. The guy was a high school guidance counselor. What did he do that left his hands so calloused? “If you want your space, I’ll go.
No problem. It is awfully late.”
“Tomorrow is the day before Thanksgiving,” he said gently. “Don’t you have a turkey to buy or something?”
“No. No turkey. No something.” She pushed her hair behind her ears and made herself meet his entirely too sympathetic gaze. She hated pity. Hell, she’d rather be ignored than have someone who mattered look at her as if they were afraid she’d break. “So unless you intend to make me forget exactly how alone I am right now, I think it’s best if I leave.”
He stared back for so long she wondered if she’d crossed some line that couldn’t be erased. She almost apologized, almost tried to explain her shitty evening and what she’d come upon at Rob’s house after leaving work early with a headache.
Before she could, he lifted her legs, bending them toward her chest so he could slide closer to her. This time, her back didn’t complain. Maybe it was his careful touch. Or maybe she wanted him too much for anything else to even register.
Her heart stumbled as he reached out to grip her chin between tense fingers. “You think you know what you’re asking for,” he said in a gruff voice that only excited her more. “But you don’t.”
“So give me what I don’t know I want,” she whispered, caught in his hot blue eyes, shades darker than her own.
His face hovered near hers for another moment. But even with the extra time to prepare, she wasn’t ready for the heat that poured over her when his soft mouth brushed hers. He kept the contact light until she grasped his worn flannel shirt. Lean muscles coiled beneath the fabric as he picked up the pace. Silky lips, rock-hard pecs. She needed to see what that barrel of a chest looked like now under the plaid shirts and hoodies he usually wore.
Shit, she just needed.