Scorched (Frigid 2) - Page 9

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“Duh.” She stopped at the entrance of her bedroom and leaned against the wall. A thin sliver of her belly was exposed as she toyed with her shirt. “Double duh.” Then she moved.

My spine straightened like someone had poured steel down it.

Damn, the image she offered right there was almost too much to resist. Her back was arched slightly and her eyes heavily hooded as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. Each breath she took raised breasts I’d always known would be fucking glorious, because if they looked that good covered up, they’d have to be marvelous with nothing hiding them. She pressed the back of her head against the wall and wetted her lips.

My cock jerked in response. “Andy…”

“Tanner…” she mimicked.

I bit back a groan, and then tensed as she suddenly pushed off the wall. She swayed a little on her feet as she eyed me. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Nuttin’.”

No way did I believe her. Wariness and a whole different kind of emotion warred inside me as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

“Sure.” My voice had thickened.

She tilted her head to the side, lashes lowering. “Why have we never hooked up?”

“What?” I really prayed that I heard something different.

“Are you being coy?” Andrea moved an inch closer. “Or are you just dumb?”

“Whoa. You really know how to come on to a guy.”

Her grin flashed, and then disappeared quickly. “Don’t you want—?”

“Don’t finish that question,” I cut her off, more roughly than I intended.

It was like watching air being let out of a balloon. She deflated that quickly. Shoulders lowering as her hands moved to her denim-clad thighs, she dipped her chin as she shrugged. “Yeah. Okay.” She turned sideways, toward the door, lifting her chin slightly. “I’m home. Y-You can go now.”

“Andy, I…” What could I say? That the idea of her coming on to me only when she was drunk filled me with the urge to punch something? And that when she was sober, she was more likely to stab me than smile at me?

She stopped, her lashes lifting as she looked up at me. Her smile was wan, so unlike the earlier ones. “It’s okay.”

My tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth. I had no idea what to do with her, but then she placed her hands on my chest again. There was enough time to stop her, more than enough time, but I didn’t, and I had no idea what that said about me, but then I wasn’t thinking. She stretched up as her hands reached my shoulders and she pressed her lips against mine. It was soft and quick. Andrea tasted of sugar and liquor, but her mouth was warm and sweet as her lips moved over mine.

The single kiss hit me hard, jarred me and rattled me up. So much so that when she moved away, entering the bedroom and partly closing the door behind her, I didn’t move for what felt like five minutes. No shit. There was a good chance I actually did stand there for five minutes, like some kind of dumbass with a hard-on for a girl who was so drunk I’d had to cart her sweet ass home.

But she’d kissed me.

But she’d kissed me while drunk, which canceled out the whole kissing part.

“Fuck,” I muttered, rubbing my hand over my head as I stared at the door. Part of me wanted to run, the other half was still dumbstruck. I needed to check on her. That’s what I told myself when I walked forward and pushed at her door.

The lamp was on, casting the room in a soft buttery glow. Andrea was on the bed, lying atop the covers, half on her side and half on her belly. I couldn’t leave her like that. No way. Walking over to the bed, I carefully lifted her legs and managed to get them under the comforter, shifting her so that she was safely lying on her side. Then I grabbed one of her extra-long body pillows, shoving in behind her back so she couldn’t roll over, just in case she got sick.

“You change your mind?” she mumbled.

I coughed out a laugh as I tugged up the comforter. “No, Andy.”

She sighed heavily, and when I glanced down, thick coppery-brown lashes fanned her cheeks. “Stop calling me that…dick.”

Another chuckle rumbled out of me. She was insulting me. That had to mean that I’ve seen her far worse than this. “You have such a mouth on you.”

There was no response, as she had fallen asleep. A strange, soft smile tugged at my mouth as I stared down at her.

“I’ll lock up,” I said, even though I knew she didn’t hear me. I reached for the lamp, hesitating. This wasn’t the first time I’d put her sweet ass to bed. First time she’d been a mess, drunk off her ass, but this…yeah, this was the same, except last time she hadn’t said I never smiled at her, and she hadn’t kissed me.

Rosy lips parted as she rocked a little, as if she was trying to roll onto her back but couldn’t do it. Under the covers, her legs curled up, and something…something odd in my chest clenched. Kind of like a pressure clamping down. Not necessarily bad, but different, and I had no idea what to make of that.

I never had any idea of what to make of Andrea—not from the first time I’d met her at a bar outside of College Park, sitting next to Sydney. Immediately, I had been interested in her. Fuck. Those curls? The lips? That ass? But then she’d taken one look at me, opened her mouth, and I quickly learned the girl had a razor-sharp tongue.

And she did not like me.

Oh, she wanted me. I knew that for damn sure. I’d seen the way she’d looked at me when she didn’t think I was paying attention, but I’d never let myself even think about going there. I didn’t even know why I was letting myself do it now.


Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout Frigid Romance
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