Dad Jokes and Pine Cones by C.J. Banks

Author:C.J. Banks [C.J. Banks]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: C.J. Banks
Published: 2022-04-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I lay there, watching him watch me. We exchanged thousands of words in those looks, and I was too obtuse to interpret them. I tugged the cuffs of my oversized sweatshirt, envious of his ability to wear a fitted tank top. More envious of his defined and strong arms. I pulled the cool bedspread tighter against me. Hiding my body from him.

I stared at a wisp of long hair that crossed his cheek. When I reached to move the hair, I realized how far apart we were. I was at the edge of the bed, afraid to be tempted past my comfort zone. He was at the other, cautious of my boundaries. It was just moving hair; I only touched his forehead and cheek; it wasn’t a complex move. But it felt damned daunting.

His eyes closed. This tiny act showed me he trusted me. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. The soft curve of his mouth enraptured me.

Logically, I could trust him. Emotionally, I wanted to run screaming, buy a tub of cookie dough ice cream, and hide forever. But my trust was like a guitar pick. When you dropped your pick inside your guitar, the pick was still there. It didn’t disappear, but you couldn’t reach it. It rattled around. You saw the bastard when you peered in, but it took a good hard shake or two to get it out. I had to shake my guitar to get my pick out. Right now, it was trapped in a dark place. I was glad no one could hear my thoughts. That was such a stupid analogy.

Propping myself on my elbow, I shook that damn guitar. I moved closer to him. His eyes remained closed, but his smile deepened. Creating adorable little dimples. My fingers grazed those dimples. His cheeks were smooth and soft, with muscles taught in a grin.

I moved closer.

His smile widened, and the perfect lines of his teeth peeked between his pink lips. His hand pressed mine against his face. He slowly and sensually kissed my palm. My breath hitched, and I froze. The tickle of his mouth sent electricity pulsing through my arm. Hot AF.

“Too much?” he asked.

“No,” I squeaked.

He kissed my palm and nuzzled his jaw against the heel of my hand. I watched with wild fascination. A small gasping whimper noise sounded in the room. It took me a moment to realize the noise came from me. The sound reflected my thoughts of “I’m unsure of what is happening, but I crave this.”

Breath escaped me. He dragged his gaze along my arm, stopping at my neck for a moment, lingered on my mouth before meeting my eyes through his heavy eyelashes. My insides melted. The way he looked at me said, “I need you. I want to touch you and make you cry my name. I desire to make love to you. I want to fuck you.” This, I believed, was what the poets called “smouldering eyes.”

Mirroring my position, he inched closer and lifted himself onto one elbow.

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