“Yeah?” Josh asked, smiling. The surprise in his voice told Noah everything he needed to know about how good he’d been doing by his brother. “I will.”
Fifteen minutes later, they’d cleared out the empty boxes and his dad and brother were gone. Noah took a quick cold shower and shot over to Kristina’s apartment in the moving truck.
The last time he saw her, he’d been about two seconds away from burying himself between her legs. Today, he was going to make sure they moved squarely back into the friend zone. Things were getting too intense, too warped, too…different between them. And that seemed dangerous for both of them, because he wouldn’t be able to stand doing anything to hurt her, and hurt was all he had to give right now.
Maybe that was just how it was going to be for him. Permanently.
As he turned the truck into the long lot in front of the grouping of garden-style apartment buildings in her complex, Noah knew he needed some basic rules to get through the day with Kristina.
So, okay. No kissing. No hugging. No touching. No suggestive questions cloaked in conversations about ice cream. No fucking sub shops. In short, nothing that might lead to him fighting the basic, primal instinct to get inside Kristina Moore.
Busted-up body aside, at the core he was a goddamned U.S. Marine. And always would be. He’d looked death in the face and laughed. More than once. Even with a damaged eye and ear, he should be able to handle one twenty-five-year-old grade-school teacher on his own terms.
For fuck’s sake.
Noah took a deep breath as he knocked on her door.
“Hey!” Kristina said with a big smile as the door flew open. “I was beginning to wonder if I was gonna have to send out a search party.”
What. The fuck. Was she wearing.
Roughly cut-off white denim shorts that were so short the pockets poked out the bottom. He forced his gaze away from the apex of her thighs, where hanging threads made his fingers itch to brush them away—or unravel them altogether. A loose, worn blue halter top with a plunging neckline and skinny straps covered a breast-hugging white tank that lay beneath. Lacey blue bra straps peeked out at her shoulders. Layers of beads trailed almost mesmerizingly over her breasts and circled her ankle and wrist.
And her hair. Oh, her hair was a sexed-up dream. The mass of blond curls and waves hung flirtatiously off to one side, swept back off of her face. Noah fisted his hands against the urge to bury his fingers in all that silken blond and pull her in…
No. There will be no burying of fingers or anything else. Remember the goddamn rules.
“Nope, I’m here,” he said.
Kristina nodded, her eyebrow arched. “Well come on in, master of the obvious.”
Smirking, Noah pushed by her—without touching—and glanced around her apartment. His gaze landed on a huge blue gift bag on the coffee table.
“I have goodies for you,” Kristina said, scurrying past him. Holy hell, the denim was just as short in the rear. Her thighs looked so smooth and soft. Touchable.
“Oh, yeah?” Noah said, dragging his gaze away.
“Yep.” She grabbed the gift bag’s handles and turned to him wearing the most exuberant smile. It brightened her whole face, and it made her so damn pretty. “I am about to be your favorite person ever.”
The words did funny things to his chest. “You already are my favorite person.” It was true. All of the recent weirdness between them aside, no one had ever gotten him the way Kristina did. Even not really understanding the full extent of what he was dealing with right now, she still got him in ways no one else did.
“I know. But now I’m taking my awesomeness to a whole new level.” She held the bag out toward him.
He accepted it into his hands, surprised at how heavy it was. “What’s this for?”
Kristina rolled her eyes. “Just open it.”
“Now?” As much as he appreciated the gesture, he didn’t deserve presents. Least of all from her, who he’d been purposely avoiding for most of the last seven months.
She gave him a droll stare. “No, next Thursday. Yes, now. Come sit.”
He joined her on the couch and placed the bag between his legs on the floor. He pressed his lips together as he pulled the first package out of the bag. It was…the worst wrapped gift he’d ever seen. Really, a total vintage Kristina job. “So, you’re getting better,” he said, giving her the side eye.
Her gaze narrowed. “Shut up. I did good this time.”
“Let me see your fingers,” he said, because somehow she always gave herself paper cuts when she attempted to wrap a gift.
She stuffed them between her thighs, which eked a smile out of him. “Uh huh. That’s what I thought.”