Presently Perfect (Perfect #3) (20 page)

Fuck me on a slow boat to China.

I was unable to tear my eyes away from her while my hand searched for the T-shirt. I inhaled a shaky breath, handed the shirt to Tweet, and demanded, “Put this on. Now!”

Fortunately, she listened and pulled the shirt down over her head, breaking my lacy hypnotic trance. Unfortunately, her inner calf slowly rubbed up and down my hip, occasionally making contact with the side of my ass. Sweat popped up on my forehead, trickling down my neck, and collecting in my palms. I didn’t know how much more of flirty Tweet I could take before I caved. Even Superman had his kryptonite. Plus, my dick was growing by leaps and bounds and becoming quite intimate with my zipper.

“You want to see how talented I am?” she asked.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No. No. No. I needed to put an end to this.

“What are you talking about?”

“Watch and learn, buddy boy.” A wink was aimed in my direction.

She’s killing me.

I sat back on my heels, nervous and excited about what was coming next.

Tweet placed one arm behind her, squirmed for a second, and then brought it back to the front. Reaching up into one of the shirt sleeves, she pulled the strap of her bra down, twisting her arm until it was free. She then repeated the same move on the other side, only this time, she tugged the entire bra out.

Tweet’s nipples rubbed against my T-shirt.

My nipples had rubbed against that T-shirt.

Mine and Tweet’s nipples rubbing against each other’s.

Swinging the bra over her head, she hollered, “Ta-dah!”

God, she was hot and fun.

“You’re nuts.” I chuckled.

“And talented.” She puckered her lips, blew me a kiss, and threw another wink my way.

“Yes, very talented.” I smiled.

The air in the room stilled as our eyes stayed on each other. Tweet leaned back onto the bed. Using her elbows to prop herself up, she tilted her head slightly to the side, her chocolate brown hair falling over one shoulder. The look in her eyes changed from flirty into a hot raging inferno.

“Do you want to know what Brad did to me?” I opened my mouth to answer but she cut me off. “He ran his hands up and down my bare back, over my hips, and grabbed my ass.”

The second she said his name I tensed up. My fingers dug into my thighs, automatically curling to form fists. My chest pumped deep and heavy. The constant thud of my heartbeat echoed in my ears. Tweet watched me like a hawk, gauging my reaction. Raising her leg, she slowly rubbed my hip again.

All the emotions of the night, the week, the months, and years mixed together and flooded my senses. My heart and my head were no longer separate. They were one being and that being wanted his girl.

My hands grabbed the back of Tweet’s legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed and into my chest. Her hard nipples pressed against me throttled my body into overdrive. My hands squeezed and massaged her upper thighs. We were half an inch apart and on the verge of getting lost in each other.

“Do you want to touch me?” Tweet sighed.

My eyes clenched as my head fell back. I needed a minute to clear my mind. My brain was shutting down. All coherent thought and common sense were being forced out by what my body needed. I should have gotten up and walked out of the room, that would have been the right thing to do, but my body wasn’t in the mood for
right.

“Fuck yes,” I whispered.

“Then do it.” She challenged.

I lifted my head, bringing me face-to-face with Tweet. My hands traveled up her thigh and over her hip, slipping just underneath her shirt. The feel of her bare skin sent me to the edge of sanity. My dick was hard, hot, and about to slash my jeans open.

Get in there, dumbass. You’ve been waiting for this to happen.

“Touch me, Noah.”

There was a slight catch in her voice. The tone wasn’t hot, flirty, or playful any longer. It was pleading. She was begging me to push her out of the friend zone. She struggled, wanting to cross that line, but couldn’t bring herself to do it, drunk or sober.

I wanted Tweet more than anything in the world, but not like this. She had to come to me on her own, ready to put aside any fears because we were worth it. I’d hold her hand as she stepped over the line, but I wasn’t going to force her.

My common sense finally returned along with all the other reasons the line wouldn’t be crossed tonight.

I removed my hands from under her shirt, pulled away, and sat back on my heels.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I muttered.

Tweet lowered her gaze, dropping her chin to her chest. We were silent for what felt like a lifetime. Her hunched shoulders rose and fell with each unsteady breath she inhaled. When she looked back up at me there were tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. It’s just that… you’ve been drinking and I don’t want anything to happen between us while you’re drunk.”

She looked down and whispered, “I want to go home now.”

I leaned forward, placing my index finger under her chin, and raised her gaze to meet mine. A gentle stream of tears spilled from her eyes. I moved my hand to her jaw, cupping the side of her face as my thumb slid over her cheek, wiping the tears aside.

“Don’t cry, Tweet. Talk to me.”

Shrugging away, she said, “It’s just that I could tell Brittani was drunk and you still… Please let me go home now.”

My arms wrapped around Tweet, pulling her in, and I said, “I’m so sorry about tonight. I hate myself for hurting you.” Leaning back slightly, I rested my forehead on hers. “It didn’t matter if
she
was drunk. We both use each other. You’re not just a warm body that a guy screws when he’s trying to numb himself. You mean everything to me.”

I gently kissed her forehead then whispered, “Don’t go. Stay with me.”

She gave me a slight nod.

When I pulled back our eyes connected. I hoped mine conveyed just how sorry I was for tonight, how hard it was to stop things, and how much I loved her. Not saying another word, I grabbed a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt and walked out of the room.

I changed my clothes and headed to the kitchen. As the glass filled with water, I stood at the sink staring at my reflection in the window. I had no idea how this night went from losing Tweet forever to having her in my bed.

She said it, I love you, Noah.

I smirked, thinking how incredible it felt hearing her say the words. Sure, she was drunk but the alcohol didn’t make her love me. The love was already inside of her heart. All the tequila did was create a small crack in the wall she’d built up. I needed to be patient until the day came when she willingly crossed over the line and into my arms.

After I cleared my head, I went back to my room with water and aspirin in hand. I smiled when I saw that Tweet had made herself at home in my bed, lying on her side under the covers. I walked over to her and held out the water and aspirin. After downing the pills, she lay her head back, nuzzling into the pillow. I went to my dresser, turned the lamp off, and crawled into bed. I was taking a big chance, but I couldn’t help slipping in behind Tweet and draping my arm around her waist. She placed her hand on top of mine and squeezed it slightly. I buried my nose in her dark hair, breathing in the scent of raspberry and vanilla.

This was where we belonged.

“Noah, can I ask you something?” she whispered.

“You can ask me anything, Tweet.”

“Even if it’s about Brittani?”

“Yes,” I sighed.

“Why didn’t you want to kiss her or hear her talk?”

The room fell quiet. I tightened my arm around Tweet and whispered, “Because she wasn’t you.”

Gripping my hand, she pulled my arm around her even tighter before we both drifted off to sleep.

The mattress jostled slightly as Tweet slid from underneath my arm and scooted off the bed. This morning, we were still in the same position we had fallen asleep in, the only difference was… at some point during the night, our legs had tangled together. I rolled onto my back, peeking at her from out the corner of my eye as she slinked across the room toward the door, her hand covering her mouth. She slipped out and quietly closed the door. Her pounding footsteps echoed down the hallway as she made a beeline for the bathroom. Tweet was about to have retro-tequila for breakfast. Once the memory of last night started to seep back into her mind, I knew embarrassment would follow. I decided it was best to give her a few minutes to get herself together, so I didn’t get up. Besides, I had a history of being a reflex puker. There was no need for both of us to be spewing all over the place.

Lying in wait, I let my mind wander to how incredible it felt having Tweet with me for the entire night and all we did was sleep.

I flung the comforter up, partially hiding my face, when I heard the bathroom door close. Soft groans drifted toward my room. A few seconds later my bedroom door opened, and in stepped a rumpled and slightly green-tinged Tweet. She walked to the foot of the bed to pick up her shirt and jeans. Her head turned. She spotted her shoes that were on my side of the bed, but made no attempt to get them. Her puffy-eyed gaze scanned the room. I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing when I saw the look of pure terror cross her face. Her eyes squeezed shut. I knew exactly what caused her reaction. Slowly she lifted her eyelids, cringing at the sight of her purple lace bra slung over the lamp on my dresser.

She tiptoed over to it and studied how the bra was twisted and tangled around the lamp. She had positioned herself at the perfect angle for me to have a great seat for the show. She unhooked the strap from the switch and carefully slid the bra off the lampshade. When she almost had the bra completely freed, she got cocky, thinking she was in the clear, and yanked. The bra snagged, sending the lamp tumbling. Fortunately, she caught it before it hit the floor. She placed the lamp back on the dresser and glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if I was awake. When I didn’t show any signs of life, she turned back to her project. Her face squished up as she bit down on her bottom lip, trying to decipher the lace maze. It was becoming harder to keep quiet and not laugh.

“Leave it. I like having your pretty little lacy things scattered around my room,” I said in a deep throaty voice.

Tweet froze.

“And how is my Tweet feeling this morning?” The smile was evident in my tone.

She was mortified and gorgeous.

Trying to sound chipper, she squeaked, “Great. I’m going home to shower and wash my hair.”

I got out of bed and walked up behind her, placing my hands on her hips. We looked at each other in the mirror.

I pushed her hair to one side, lowered my mouth to her ear, and said, “Don’t go. You can shower here.”

I backed up, pulled my T-shirt over my head, and flung it onto the bed. I noticed Tweet’s expression in the mirror. Her eyes traveled up and down my torso several times as her breathing picked up speed.

Moving in behind her, I said, “I’m going to go jump in the shower and then I’ll make you some toast. It will help your stomach.”

I kissed the top of her head and then glanced down at my shirt she was wearing, splattered with the effects of her first tequilathon drunk. “You can keep the shirt.”

Our gaze simultaneously shifted down and then back up as a blush crept over her face. Smiling, I gave her a slight smack on her cute little ass before leaving the room.

I jumped in the shower and quickly washed. I wanted to get back and help Tweet recover from her hangover. Plus, I’d learned from experience if I gave her too much time alone she’d start overanalyzing and build up the wall again. I needed her to know that I’d be patient and that she could set the pace for us moving out of the friend zone.

Once I was done, I grabbed a towel and dried off. My thoughts were a little cloudy after my palm felt Tweet’s ass, causing me to forget about grabbing clothes to change into, so I threw on the pajama pants from last night. I hurried to the kitchen to make breakfast. I had the toast, a Diet Pepsi, a glass of water, and bottle of aspirin set up on the coffee table in the family room with the TV tuned in to the Smurfs. I kept the volume low in case last night’s aspirin had worn off completely. I then headed down the hallway to get my girl.

Stepping into my room, I said, “Breakfast awaits you in the family…”

The room was empty and all of Tweet’s stuff was gone. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach.

She was probably in the bathroom.

I knocked softly on the bathroom door. “Tweet, is everything okay? I have breakfast ready.”

Silence.

Placing my hand on the doorknob, I turned it, and opened the door slowly.

Empty.

The knot in my stomach twisted tighter. Tweet just up and left without saying a word. No goodbye, see ya later, or kiss my ass. Not one fucking word. She ran like always. My heart rate went from sixty to one hundred eighty in two seconds flat. One by one, the veins in my neck popped out as blood traveled through them with such velocity I thought they were going to explode. I stood in the middle of the hallway, hands on hips, with my head down, inhaling long deep breaths while I counted, in an attempt to calm down.