A Kiss Like This (24 page)

He clears his throat. “Don’t you mean
uncomfortable
?”

“No. I thought that, you know,
two
virgins… being awkward together.”

He looks up at the ceiling and clasps his hands behind his head, moving it slowly back and forth. “Abby, I’m not a virgin.”

Oh.

Oh!

Oh. My.
God
.

“I… I… Can we
please, please
pretend that didn’t just happen?” I beg with a nervous giggle.

“Pretend what didn’t just happen?”

“The whole virgin announce—” I clamp my mouth shut when the lightbulb goes off. “Okay, I see what you did there.”

He chuckles softly beside me.

Nervously, I clasp my hands together on my lap and stare at my feet, which are barely touching the floor. “Sooo, I guess I should…”

Get going? Get staying?

Get a clue
.

“Stay. I mean. If you want to, uh.” Caleb clears his throat again. “If you want to stay, that’s cool. No pressure. I’m just throwing it out there. Since it’s late.”

Sure, it’s late—but it’s not
that
late. Eleven o’clock on college student time is when parties are usually just getting started. Besides, I only live a few blocks over, so his walking me home isn’t a big deal. It’s three minutes away.

I might not have a lot of previous experience when it comes to guys and their intentions, but I know this: Caleb’s nonchalant attitude isn’t fooling me. He wants me to stay, and
that
makes me nervous.

Abruptly, I stand and wipe my clammy palms on the front of my jeans. “I’m just gonna use the bathroom if you don’t mind?”

Shutting myself in his master bath, I pull out my phone and frantically tap out a quick text to Cecelia.

Me:
HELP! SOS! I think Caleb wants me to stay the night at his place. AM I READY FOR THIS? Is this moving too fast?????????????????

She responds within seconds.

Cecelia:
Okay, first of all, cool it with the ALL CAPS and hundred question marks
.
You’re not texting me while you’re with him are you??

Me
: No. I’m holed up in his bathroom like a big scaredy cat. We were sitting on the end of his bed, and I said it was getting late, and he said I could spend the night if I wanted to.

Me
: So I got up and shut myself in the bathroom. I’m so awk, Cece!!!! I don’t know if I can go back out there and act suave.

Cecelia
: I’m going to pretend you didn’t just use suave in a sentence…

Me
: WOULD YOU BE SERIOUS?????????????

Cecelia
: SORRY! Okay. Chill. Deep breath.

Cecelia
: Go out there and rock his world. Dude deserves to get laid. Might I recommend starting with the classic blow job.

I stare at my cell phone screen, face turning red and mouth hanging open
.

Cecelia
: OMG I’m so sorry! Matthew stole my phone.

Me
: I can’t stay in here all night. What should I do?

Cecelia
: What do you WANT to do?

Me
: I want… I guess I want to spend the night.

Cecelia
: Then what are you waiting for?? Abs, remember, just because you stay doesn’t mean you have to have sex with him.

Me
: I know. I’m just nervous. My palms are sweating. My face is red. My neck has a rash. I’m A HOT MESS.

Cecelia
: Awkward is only part of your charm.

Me: So NOT what I wanted to hear.

Cecelia
: Well, it’s true. You’re never going to be “one of those girls” who just goes for the guy. That’s not you, let’s face it. But what you do have is charm. And you’re sweet. For the most part.

My phone dings again as she continues.

Cecelia
: I know it’s hard for you because you’re shy around guys, but I don’t think you have to worry with Caleb. He might not be a virgin, but he knows less than you do.

Me
: Gee, why doesn’t that make me feel better?

Cecelia
: It should. If you’re worried he’s going to judge you, don’t. DO NOT. He’s putting himself out there. Why don’t you do the same?

Me
: God, I hate when you’re right…

CHAPTER 24

Caleb

What is taking her so damn long?

I stand and walk over to my dresser, dig into the pocket of my jeans, empty the content onto its surface, then kick my shoes off and push them under my desk with the side of my foot.

Glancing again at my bathroom door, I pull out my desk chair and sit, rolling it back and forth on the hardwood floors while rapping my knuckles nervously against the solid wood of my desktop.

What is she doing in there
?

There’s no window, so I’m assuming she didn’t go in there to climb out.

The thought sobers me.

Wait.
Shit.
What if she spends the night and tries climbing out my window in the morning? That would be a crushing blow to my ego. I can handle her not wanting to be with me tonight, but I couldn’t handle it if she tried to sneak out.

I’m not overly worried, but let’s be honest, she does have a history.

The sound of the doorknob turning garners my attention and has me shooting straight up and off of my desk chair, the rapid motion propelling it backwards on its castors across the hardwood floor and smashing it into the end of my bed.

Fucking bull in a china shop
.

I grab it and push it back in place as Abby is flipping the bathroom light off behind her, and walking demurely back into my room, head cast down and hands clasped in front of her solemnly.

She looks up at me then, a small smile on her lips. “Okay.”

Um… could you be more specific
?

Apparently, my confusion is evident, because she gives a shy, tinkly little laugh. “Sorry. Yes. I’d love to stay. O-overnight. Um. With you.”

I do my best to remain indifferent, despite my racing heart. “Great. I’m really freaking tired. Not that I wouldn’t walk you home. It’s just that I’m dead on my feet.”

Her bright blue eyes assess me, head tilted to the side. “Mmmhmm. Yeah, me too.” To illustrate her point, she gives a loud, dramatic yawn, lifting her hands above her head and stretching her arms. “So tired.”

My eyes go to her white tee shirt pulled taught against her high, round breasts, and I pivot on my heel, roughly yanking open the top drawer of my dresser. It shakes on its rickety legs from the jerking motion. Digging through haphazardly, I pull out the smallest shirt in my arsenal and chuck it at her. “Here.”

It hits her in the face.

She fumbles, just barely catching it, and holds it up to her chest, burying her face in it and faintly giving another quiet laugh. “Thanks.” Her shiny blue eyes, now sparkling with mischief, peer up at me as she bites down thoughtfully on her lower lip before retreating back into the bathroom. “I’ll just be a second.”

As soon as the door closes, I go to work undressing, starting with my jeans, yanking them down and draping them over the large chair in the corner. I look down at my navy boxer briefs—at my straining erection—and pull those down quickly in favor of a pair of red Wisconsin Badgers sleep pants.

I strip off both my shirts, first the plaid flannel then the tee shirt underneath, and begin pacing as I wait for the door to swing back open, wondering if I should stay bare chested or toss something else on. I mean, Jesus H Christ, my nipples are so hard they could cut glass. You’d think it was twenty frigid degrees in here.

Should I be putting that shit on display?

I glance at the bed and groan, wondering how the fuck I’m supposed to act when Abby comes back out that door wearing my tee shirt. And if I don’t stop running my fingers through my hair, I
am
going to give myself male pattern baldness. One glance in the mirror shows me my hair is standing on end.

Giving the dark locks a tug, I smooth them down with the palm of my hand and let out a frustrated breath.

The bathroom door creaks open.

My breath catches.

It’s just an old ratty tee shirt, but…
damn
.

The smallest shirt I own skims her thighs and does an outstanding job being snug in
all
the right places, her white underwear playing peek-a-boo from under the hem.

“Do you want boxers or something?”

Please say yes
.

“No. I think I’m good.” Her freshly washed face glows, make-up free, and her long, dark hair falls in a straight curtain, framing her face and cascading around her shoulders like a waterfall. She glances at the bed, uncertain, fiddling with the hemline of my gray cotton tee.

Stop fucking with the bottom of your shirt
, I want to shout, because the fidgeting is giving me a clear view of not only her smooth, bare stomach, but also a shot of her cotton-covered crotch.

Whoever said basic Hanes hipster panties can’t get a guy’s dick hard was a goddamn liar.

Let me assure you, they fucking can.

“Um. Which side…?”

“I sleep on…” Lamely, I point to the side next to the door, and stick my hands in the pockets of my sleep pants.

Abby nods, takes a deep breath, and gingerly walks robotically to the opposite side of the bed. She pulls back the covers and stares down. “When’s the last time you changed your sheets,” she jokes as she climbs in.

“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.