Comfort Zone (Awkward Love 4)

“I’m fine. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I can handle myself.” He grins, a twinkle in his eye.

I touch his face and bring my lips up to his. He groans as I roll my tongue around his, my mouth tingling from his touch. With every kiss, his intensity rivals mine. I brush my thigh over his crotch, to confirm what I already know. Then I pull away. I don’t bother to hide my amusement. I love that just kissing me turns him on that much.

“Thanks for that. Exactly what I needed.” He chuckles.

He runs his hand through his hair, the dark circles around his eyes more evident than they were before.

“You look tired,” I observe.

“I am. I don’t think I slept last night. I couldn’t turn my mind off.”

“I didn’t either,” I admit. But I look more together than he does. I might not feel it, but still…

“Maybe you need to take a day and just rest, do nothing else?” I suggest.

“Are you offering to help with that?”

My lips curve into a smile.

“That would defeat the purpose of nothing else,” I tease. “You need sleep tonight, Professor. Come over to my place tomorrow night. For dinner.” I’m sure I can think of some ways to help ease that tension, too.”

He kisses me softy on the lips.

“Okay. But I’m not happy about it.”Chapter SeventeenBecca“So, are you and Dad still going out tonight?”

I glance at Mom and grab an apple from the bowl on the kitchen counter. I carefully examine it for bruises while I wait for her to answer.

“Yes…are you asking me that for any particular reason?”

It’s the next afternoon and I’m making sure the coast is clear for Liam to come over. I know—I’m twenty-seven. I don’t have to sneak a guy in, but at the same time, exposing a guy to my family could spell the end of a relationship. I look at Mom when I feel her watching me. Her eyes are narrowed into tight slits.

Dad appears in the doorway, giving me the perfect distraction from this conversation.

“Hey,” I say. “Look, Dad’s home.”

I hurry over to him and throw my arm over his shoulder, helping him sit down at the table, pretending I haven’t noticed him rocking that walking cast like a ninja.

“How was work?” I ask him. “You look thirsty. Drink?”

He chuckles and looks at Mom, who shakes her head.

“Becca,” Mom sighs.

“What?” I turn back to Mom.

So much for that.

“I asked you why you’re suddenly so interested in our social schedule?”

“I asked about one night.” I sigh and quit the act. “If you must know, I thought I would cook dinner, and I wanted to know how many to prep for.”

Both my parents stare at me. Like the idea of me cooking is ridiculous. Now that I think about it, I guess it is. Maybe that was the wrong cover.

“You’re cooking? You? Because I’d cancel my plans for that.” Dad chortles.

“You know how bad my cooking is,” I explain, thinking on my feet. “I’m going to need a lot of practice before I produce anything remotely edible, so I wouldn’t go canceling plans.”

“Okay, good.” Mom nods. “I do hope you’re being serious, Becca. It would be nice to have a little more help around here.” She looks at her watch and sighs. “I better go and get ready.”

Dad sighs and gets to his feet. “That’s usually a hint for me, too.”After they finally leave, I have a quick shower and change into a pair of skinny jeans and a low cut top. I regret my choice of jeans about fifteen minutes later, because I’m still trying to pull them on.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I huff, squirming around on my bed, trying to wriggle them over my thighs. The problem is, I’ve committed so far that getting them off would take me just as long, by this point.

Finally, they’re on. I relax, but it’s short lived, when the doorbell rings.

Shit.

I sprint to the door and pull it open, my heart racing. Liam smiles at me. He looks sexy in a pair of faded jeans and a fitted blue sweater.

“Good evening.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me closer so he can kiss me. I sigh when our lips meet, because I’ll never get tired of kissing him. He glances at the way my jeans hug my ass and nods appreciatively.

“I look forward to getting you out of them later.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” I tease. “And you should know, these jeans took me twenty minutes to squirm into.”

“Didn’t you hear? I’m a sure thing.” He glances at my jeans again. “I’ll have you out of them in five.”

I laugh. We’ll see about that.

“How was work? Any developments on yesterday?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothing at all, not that it’s something for you to worry about.”

“I know, but I was expecting Mr. Michaels to speak with you.”