All the Right Moves (All The Right Moves 3)

“My mom washed them today, smart-ass.”

“You never know. My cousin Tyler hasn’t changed his since fall semester when he moved in. And the worst part is, my aunt’s been to visit him twice.”

“That’s kind of disgusting.”

She gives a visible shutter, scrunching up her nose. “Not kind of—it totally is.”

I still haven’t gotten in the bed yet.

“Crap. I forgot to brush my teeth. Be right back.”

Abby

Why, oh why am I going to lose sleep tonight? Let me count the ways:

1. Bare feet.

2. Bare chest.

3. Happy trail.

4. Abs.

5. Ripped biceps.

6. Aftershave.

Repeat.

Oh my god, even his freaking belly button is sexy. And I… I mentioned happy trail on the list, right? Yup, there it is, number three.

I can’t even handle it right now.

Shrinking down deeper inside his goose-down comforter, I pull it up to my chin and resist the urge to squeal out loud and kick my feet with both excitement and horrification. Horrification: who knew that was even a word?

My silky legs glide beneath the bedding, the crisp sheets cool against my smooth skin, creating an awareness of how bare I actually am beneath the blankets. Nothing but undies and a shirt that’s not even mine.

Nostalgic and self-aware, I tip my chin down and give the soft gray threadbare shirt a whiff, inhaling the clean smell of fresh laundry, slub cotton, and Caleb.

Content, I decide that no matter what happens after tonight, I’m going to steal the shirt and live in it.

Is that weird?

So intent am I in indulging my senses from Caleb’s big cushy bed, I don’t notice him standing bare chested, framed in the threshold of his bathroom door, until he clears his throat. He’s watching me wide-eyed as I have my nose buried deep in the collar of his shirt.

“This… isn’t what it looks like,” I murmur, cheeks on fire.

“It isn’t?”

“No. So please don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He grins, gap on full display. “However…” he pauses to torture me. “If I had to speculate, I’d say you were smelling my shirt? But that’s just a guess, because I’m not wearing my glasses or my contacts.” He chuckles at his own joke.

At the mention of his glasses, I shiver, remembering how flipping gorgeous he looks in them, all Superman Clark Kent-y and whatnot.

Embarrassed—no—mortified, I dive under the covers then, bury my face in a fluffy pillow, and yes, take a whiff of that too, nervous laughter finally bubbling over.

“Fine. Yes! I was smelling your shirt,” I shout from under the covers before coming up for air. Folding the covers over and smoothing out the wrinkles in the duvet, I sit up and pat the air out of the goose-down in an attempt to avoid eye contact.

“Would you please, please just get in bed so my breathing can go back to normal?”

My heart is beating at a rate of one thousand beats per minute, no lie.

Far more casually then he slipped into bed when we were sharing a room at the rental cabin, he folds back the coverlet and slides in, then begins his routine of pounding and shaping pillows. I watch, mesmerized, as his sinewy muscles flex and bulge and swell with every languid movement, the tendons in his back and neck so defined…

…my mouth might actually be salivating.

I manage to tear my eyes away just long enough to readjust my position on the bed so I’m lying on my side, and give him a guilty smile when he finally turns to face me.

Like I wasn’t just undressing his undressed body with my greedy, lecherous eyes.

My wanton, covetous, virgin eyes.

As Caleb settles in beside me with his arms bent behind his head, I can’t tell if he’s feigning indifference or if he isn’t feeling what I’m feeling—complete inner turmoil.

“Can you really not see without glasses?” I ask, breaking the silence.

He tips his chin to glance over at me and chuckles. “Yeah, I’m pretty blind.”

I wave my hand through the air in front of his face. “Can you see that?”

Another chuckle. “I’m not that blind. Saw it and felt it.”

“What about this?” I stick out my tongue at him and he emits a “Pfft.”

“Why don’t we do an experiment? You get closer and I’ll let you know when I can finally see you clearly,” Caleb suggests with a mischievous grin, his dark eyes raking over my hair, face, and his tee shirt. I think. I mean, the guy did just say he was blind without his contacts…

“Okay, I’ll play along.” I lean in until I’m a foot from his face. “Can you see me now?”

He squints, and his hands feel around as if grasping through the thin air. “Abby, dear, is that you?” His voice croaks and scratches as he attempts to make his voice sound like that of an old lady.

I move closer still, and his dark brown eyes crinkle at the corner in amusement as he watches me move in on him. I’m at a near crouch, hovering a mere six inches or so from his face, hands braced on my knees.