The Girl He Wants by Kristi Rose

Author:Kristi Rose [Rose, Kristi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensignton Publishing Corp.
Published: 2017-02-14T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

He sits back and rests his arm over the chair’s back, his t-shirt pulling taut across his yummy swimmer’s chest and I instantly go somewhere else. A place with sheets tangled between legs and hands caressing flesh. A place that brings me happiness and not grief.

“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” With his free hand, he takes an egg roll from the carton and stretches ever so slightly to dip it in my bowl of sauce.

I can’t stop staring at his long fingers, remembering what they felt stroking my flushed skin. How eager he was to touch me. How he’d tell me he wanted more after I’d just given him everything.

Inadvertently, because I was daydreaming, I drop the remains of my egg roll into the sauce, splashing it all over his hand and roll.

“Oh dear. So sorry,” I say and in my haste to grab a napkin, I knock over the bottle of soy sauce. Stacy, in the process of reaching for his own napkin, is leaning forward at the same moment the soy sauce bottle bounces against the table, on its side, spraying soy on his shirt with each bounce.

Now, I’ve done it.

See Jayne be a klutz.

“Bloody hell, I’m awfully sorry. You better go home and spray that shirt right away if you want those stains to come out.” Profusely, I feed him napkins and go so far as to make one awkward attempt to dab at the splatter.

“I don’t have stain remover. I keep forgetting to get some.” He’s wiping the sticky orange sauce off his hand without any sense of urgency.

One crisis at a time I suppose is his motto. Though I do want to scream that he needs to hurry before the stain sets.

“Here, hand me the shirt. I’ll spray it and try to get the spots out. You can go grab another.” I stand and wait with my hand out.

He blinks once and smiles before pulling his shirt off by reaching behind his head and grabbing it from the back collar.

The rippling of his shoulder muscles begs me to run my hands over the hills and valleys and maybe tangle my fingers in the small smattering of his chest hair.

Cripes, he’s yummy.

He places the shirt in my hand and I jerk into action, rushing to my laundry room. I’m spraying the special stain mixture I make at home, taking care to get each of the little spots, when he says my name.

Startled, I squeal. Having not expecting him to follow me into the room, I jump as well and clutch the spray bottle to my chest.

“Bloody hell you scared me.” I take a deep breath, forcing my gaze to be anywhere but on his naked chest.

“I only wanted to say you don’t have to go to all this trouble.” He steps into the small room. The only way out is either around him or back into my dark and dusty garage.

“It’s no bother. I should have this worked out by the time you get back from getting a shirt,” I hint.

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