I swallowed and lay completely immobile, waiting for his hand to make a more daring move, but he continued right on skimming his fingertips softly along my skin, seemingly unaware of the fact that he was turning me on. I decided upon conducting an experiment to see what kind of response I could provoke from him. I placed my hand flat on his stomach and waited for several minutes for him to get used to the contact. Then, I let my fingertips drift along his washboard abs, slowly gliding over his ribs, and then back down, stopping just above the waistband of his shorts. His hand stilled on my skin, resting at my pulse point and I knew he could feel its insistent thrumming.
He lifted up on his elbow to look down at me. I knew I was flushed and pink like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. He placed a hand against my cheek, as if checking my temperature.
‘You’re warm. Are you feeling okay?’ His eyes met mine, narrowing with confusion and worry.
No I’m not okay, I’m horny as hell and you’re driving me crazy! ‘Fine, why?’
He shook his head, like he was clearing a thought. ‘Okay. I’ll just get you some water.’ He stood from the bed and crossed the room.
I don’t want any damn water, I want some cock! I fell back onto the pillow with a huff. This boy was going to be the death of me.
When Cohen returned with the water, I dutifully swallowed the big gulp he insisted I have before he would join me on the bed again.
Once that was done, he nestled me in against his body and placed his arm around me, his fingertips absently skimming along my shoulder. My skin tingled all over. I was hyperaware of each tiny movement of his fingers, wanting him to touch me elsewhere, to explore more of my body. But this time when he picked up my hand once again and began rubbing my knuckles with his thumb, I tried not to read anything into it.
‘Enjoying the movie?’ he whispered.
‘Mm-hmm.’ I didn’t trust myself enough to form actual coherent words just then. The room around us had grown dark except for the faint glow of the TV, and the air buzzed with sexual attraction.
He turned my hand over and held it in his, continuing to massage my palms with the pad of his thumb. It was simple and innocent, yet completely fucking turning me on.
Cohen held my palm up and looked at it. ‘Your hands are tiny.’
My breathing turned shallow and I waited in anticipation for what was building between us, hoping it would advance beyond the just-friends stage.
‘This is your life line.’ He traced his thumb along the center of my palm, sending a ticklish rush through me. He brought my hand closer to inspect it in the dim light. ‘And your love line. But it stops abruptly right here.’ He tapped near my thumb.
I let out the breath I’d been holding. ‘Yeah, I swore off the whole commitment thing years ago.’
‘Bad experience?’ He set my hand down between us.
‘Something like that.’
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘Not really.’ I never talked about him. Ever. Not even with Ashlyn. Cohen smiled at me sadly, like I was broken. I didn’t want him to feel pity for me. I didn’t want him to feel anything for me, except maybe desire. That wouldn’t be so bad. He picked up my hand again and laced his fingers with mine.
‘I’m here if you want to talk.’
‘Thanks.’ I gave his hand a squeeze. Against my will, I found my mind wandering to my parents’ brutal divorce a few years ago, which was the other part of the story. The part I was more comfortable allowing myself to remember. ‘My parents had the catastrophe of all divorces during my freshman year of college. They don’t speak at all anymore.’
‘Is that the reason you’re a commitment-phobe?’
‘It’s part of the reason.’ A small part. ‘What about you? Are your parents still married?’
‘I never knew my dad. He took off on my mom when she was pregnant with me. She was only eighteen.’
‘Wow. That must have been hard.’
‘Yeah, but we managed.’ His jaw flexed, and I backed off, sensing he didn’t want to answer questions about his past any more than I did.
Cohen continued to hold my hand throughout the movie and I rested my head on his chest, content with the silence between us.
When the movie ended, he turned it off while I stretched out on his bed.
He looked down at me and smiled. ‘Tired?’
I nodded.
‘I’ve got to take Bob out. I can walk you home, or…’
‘Or?’ My eyebrow quirked up.
‘You could sleep over again.’
I grinned up at him despite my best attempt to act cool and unaffected. ‘You like having me in your bed, rather than Bob?’
He laughed. ‘Hell yeah, Easy E. You smell a lot better too.’ He leaned down and sniffed my hair. ‘Yep. Like flowers and sunshine.’
‘Your bed is insanely comfortable. Let me just go down and get pajamas while you’re walking Bob.’
‘Cool.’ He smiled, seemingly happy.
We headed downstairs, and while Cohen took a stroll around the block, I dashed inside and brushed my teeth, set the dishwasher to run overnight and then picked out the perfect pajamas to tempt Cohen.
A teeny tiny pair of hot-pink shorts with the word SEXY written across the butt and a white tank top that had been washed so many times it had shrunk to fit snugly, the thin cotton hugging my breasts. Lastly, I stripped off my bra and hoisted the girls on display to show a little cleavage. There was no way Cohen wouldn’t notice these beauties. I giggled to myself and headed back outside.
Cohen was waiting on my front porch to escort me back upstairs, Bob sitting by his side. Something tugged inside me. I liked that he’d waited rather than heading back upstairs without me. I’d started to feel slightly ridiculous about this slumber party, but when I saw him waiting patiently for me, all doubts were pushed from my mind. He wanted me to stay over just as much as I did. I couldn’t explain it, but maybe that was okay.
‘Ready?’ I locked my front door then turned to face him.
His eyes started at my face then travelled south, stopping at my chest. His lips parted just slightly and he inhaled a shaky breath. ‘Uh…yeah.’ He ushered me against his side. ‘Cold?’ He rubbed the length of my arm, unaware that my goose bumps had nothing to do with the chill in the air and everything to do with the desire I saw reflected in his eyes.
I was about to mutter something cute about him keeping me warm, when Bob chose that exact moment to stick his snout in the crotch of my shorts. Cohen chuckled and redirected the dogs face from between my legs.
Sheesh. Did I mention I hated dogs?
When we made it inside, Cohen got Bob settled for the night on the sofa, then directed me to his room. He waited for me to walk in ahead of him, and I couldn’t help giving my hips a little extra swing as I moved. Wearing those shorts out in public was probably illegal, considering the amount of leg—and