Tempt The Playboy (Tempt 2)

“She is going to be over in thirty minutes,” I tell the guys, all excited.

“Oh, good,” Austin says sarcastically. “I’m so happy this all worked out for you. Do me a favor and don’t call me till next week,” he tells me, his nose moving up and down. “My nose is so itchy.”

“Just scratch it. What’s the worst that can happen?” John says from the back. “What’s a little more germs on your face?”

I laugh at them as thoughts of Kaleigh cooking for me run through my mind. Her naked with a tiny apron, her ass open for the taking. I might be smiling too big because Austin smacks my arm, bringing me out of my daze.

“I hate you right now,” he says as soon as I turn into my driveway.

I scramble out of the car, running into the house.

“Jackass, you forgot your go-to bag,” John says, walking in the house after me. “I’m grabbing my clothes and leaving. In case you’re wondering, I’m throwing all these clothes out.” He runs upstairs to my bedroom, coming down with his clothes in a ball.

Austin follows him. “I’m burning these,” he says to me, walking out of the house.

“I don’t give a shit. Thanks for today, boys,” I say. “Fuck, it felt good, right? The whole hanging together and stuff.” I shrug.

“Nothing about today felt good,” Austin says, slamming the door closed.

I run upstairs, peeling the shirt from my body, the smell of urine hitting me right in the nose. I stop myself right before I throw it in the garbage along with the jeans and boxers.

I step under the shower, washing away the stench. I rinse the shampoo from my hair, grabbing some soap and scrubbing my face, washing away the black shoe shine. Finishing the shower in record time, I wrap the towel around my waist, walking to the sink to brush my teeth, but I stop in my tracks. The shoe shine is still on my face. Not dark black but a faded gray. What. The. Fuck. I open the water, grabbing some soap and rubbing at the dark gray lines. Nothing happens. I open Google right away to ask how to get rid of shoe shine stains.

Turpentine. What the actual fuck? I call Austin right away, but he sends me to voice mail. So I text him instead.

I have an urgent situation.

I don’t care if you’re in the middle of the street with a severed foot. Call 9-1-1

I need turpentine. Do you have any?

Why the fuck would I have turpentine on hand?

The shoe shine stained my face and now I have two gray lines under my eyes.

Good. It’s karma.

Fuck you.

You wish.

I put my phone down. I don’t have time to think about anything because the doorbell rings.

Fuck. I slip on a pair of basketball shorts and run downstairs to the door. I open the door and my breath actually stops. She isn’t looking at the door, but instead I have her back and she turns around to look at me. It’s almost like it’s in slow motion. Her hair whips around, her smiling face coming into view.

“Hey.” Her voice comes out while she looks at me from head to toe. “What happened to your face?” she asks, leaning in, rubbing her thumb over one of the stained parts.

“Um.” I try thinking fast, nothing coming to mind. “We were playing football and I put on the black paint to hide the glare from the sun. Come in.” I try changing the subject as I move away from the door to allow her to come in.

“Oh, fun, I love football,” she says, coming in and kissing my cheek. “You must be the quarterback.” She goes straight to the kitchen.

“Yeah, we don’t really have positions.” I shrug. “So what do you have in the bag?” I notice the big canvas bag she has on her shoulder.

“I brought stuff to make Philly cheesesteak. I hope you’re hungry.”

“That’s my favorite sandwich ever.” I smile at her. “How did you know?”

“Is it, really?” she asks and the happiness from her voice lights up the room.

“Yup.” It really isn’t. I tolerate it, but I’m not going to tell her. “What can I do to help?” I ask her.

“Nothing.” She puts down her bag and starts taking the stuff out of her bag. “I’m just going to slice the veggies and stuff.” She looks around. “I need a pan, I think,” she says quietly. “You know what? I want to surprise you, so how about you go get some wine and stay in the living room till it’s done?”

“Really?” I say to her. “You sure?”

“Yup, perfectly.” She shoos me away. “Go relax on the couch.”

I walk around the island to kiss her on the lips. “I’m glad you could make it.” I wrap my arms around her waist, and she wraps her arms around my shoulders. I kiss her again. This time she molds herself to my body. “Really, really glad.”