It’s one thing I should’ve kept tight to my chest.
Coy stalks around the table, his eyes dark and hooded. There’s a fire in them that I haven’t seen since the night on the boat when he took my hand and led me upstairs.
He knows where I was going with that, and my ramble afterward didn’t cover it.
I’m glued to the spot on the floor as he approaches me. My mouth goes dry.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I try to come up with a deflection, a way to save myself from whatever is about to happen. But before my brain decides to work, Coy is standing in front of me.
“What were you going to say?” he asks.
“It was nothing.”
“Say it,” he demands.
“It was nothing.”
He lifts my chin with the tip of his finger. The contact sends chills up my spine.
His eyes drill into mine, holding them hostage as he searches them for an answer to an unasked question.
“I will pick you up and throw you over my shoulder again,” he says, the corner of his lip twitching. “And I will throw you into the pool.”
“Oh, that’s scary.”
He grins, trailing a finger down the side of my face. “Tell me what you were going to say,” he whispers.
I weigh my options. I could continue to argue with Coy, but the damage is done. I’ll have to deal with the fallout anyway.
So, I suck in a deep, nervous breath and give him a version of what I was going to say.
“I’m just a silly girl who’s always had a thing for the boy next door,” I whisper back.
His grin falters before growing again. He cups both sides of my face with his palms.
I hold my breath, awaiting his reaction.
Coy knows that’s not what I was going to say. I can see it in the twinkle in his eye. But he seems to take pity on me and lets it slide.
“You wanna know something?” he asks.
“Probably not.”
He chuckles. “I’m just a crazy guy who’s always had a thing for the hot, beautiful, and sexy girl next door.”
“You have a neighbor like that?”
He tries not to laugh but fails miserably.
My cheeks heat as his words settle against my heart. I normally brush off sentiments like this from guys, figuring they’re just a line to get me in bed.
Usually, they are.
But I’ve known Coy Mason long enough to be able to determine when he’s full of shit. And when he’s telling the truth.
And this? This line that I never thought I’d hear come from his sweet, kissable lips?
He’s telling the truth.
Mountains of tension and stress float away. If it’s just for right now, that’s okay. It’s a relief to have things feel like they’re right where they should be.
I exhale, letting my body sag forward. Coy holds me steady.
“I’ve got you,” he says. “Okay? I’ve got you.”
There’s a gravity in his words, a double entendre that peppers my heart.
“No more bullshit,” he says earnestly. “No more assuming. No more miscommunication. Got it?”
I nod. “That works both ways. Because I told you about my dad. You just didn’t see it.”
“Of course. You’re right. That works both ways.” He takes a deep breath. “I know you have a lot going on, Bells. More than I realized, and that’s on me. But it’s on you that you didn’t tell me.”
“I can agree with that.”
He strokes my cheeks with his thumbs. “I want to be here for you. I want to be your friend. I want to … be lots of things, okay? I don’t … I don’t know …”
I raise a finger to his lips and press it against them. “I don’t know either. And we’re probably not going to figure it out right now. I mean, I still kind of hate you.” I wink at him. “So let’s just …”
“Start over?”
“Nah, not start over. Maybe we forgive and forget?” I bite my lip. “Well, maybe not forget everything. There are a few nights I’d like to remember.”
“You are the most confusing and infuriating girl I’ve ever met,” he says, narrowing his eyes playfully.
“Yeah, well, you’re the most frustrating and irritating man I know.”
He grins before leaning down until his mouth is a hairbreadth from mine, and his breath is hot against my lips.
I close my eyes and will his mouth to touch mine—if even for a moment.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he says, the words brushing against my skin. “If you want to object, now is the time. Otherwise, I’m taking it as consent, and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”
“Coy …”
His thumbs dig into my cheeks. “Yeah?”
I open my eyes as my heart threatens to burst out of my ribs. “Kiss me.”
And he does.
Twelve
Bellamy
He kisses me. Barely.
His lips brush against mine in the faintest, least satisfying way.
“What the hell was that?” I ask him, my eyes still closed.
“What do you mean?” He breathes the words against my mouth. “Did you want more?”
My body screams at him in a silent demand for attention.
I twist my body, moving it around in hopes that I can find some relief to the tension this asshole just created.
Coy leans back, his eyes twinkling. “Are you frustrated?”
“Yes. But it’ll help when I throw your ass out of here.”
He laughs. “You think you can do that?”
I give him a look that questions his sanity.
“We’re gonna get one thing straight before anything transpires here,” he says, running his hands down my neck, over my shoulders, and down my arms.
I shiver at the contact. “Huh?”
“You’re going to stop being so damn difficult.”
His hands drop away from my body, and finally, I can think again.
I take a step back. “Maybe I have demands,” I say, thinking on the fly. “Maybe I have something we need to get straight too.”
He grins. “Give it to me, sugar.”
That’s what I want to do, asshole.
As if he reads my mind, he bursts out laughing.
I roll my eyes. “You are so predictable.”
“Me? Am I predictable? I know exactly what you were thinking, and that defines predictability.”
He shrugs with a playful arrogance that only makes me want to one-up him. He’s not getting the power position. Not in my house.
I shrug back, mocking his gesture to me, and head to my bedroom. He follows. I don’t point out how predictable that is.
“You really didn’t get my text message that night?” I ask him, flipping on the bedroom light.
“Nope.”
He stands in the doorway and leans against the frame.
I face the full-length mirror so that he can see my face in the reflection. After holding his gaze for a moment too long—just enough time for him to be confident that my actions are, indeed, intentional—I lift the hem of my shirt and tug it over my head.
His pupils widen, but he doesn’t move.
“Oh,” I say as if I’m not disrobing mid conversation. “And you didn’t know I was a virgin?”