Holy crap, that grin alone made me feel hot all over.
“Stop smiling,” I snapped.
Jaymeson’s smile only widened. “So, tell me about him.”
“How do you know it’s a him?” I took another bite of pancake and chewed. Holy pancakes, what the crap did he put in those? Legal addictants? They were so good!
“The smile.” He sighed and piled five pancakes onto his own plate. “That smile screams crush.”
“I’m eighteen. I don’t crush.”
“Age reminder, nice.” He winced.
“And how old are you again?” I twirled my fork into the air. “Twenty-three going on forty?”
“Eat your damn pancakes.” He hit my fork with his and dug in like he hadn’t eaten in ten years.
“Uh, hungry?”
“Starved.” He barely took a breath as he devoured three pancakes in less than a few minutes.
I finished my last pancake only to get another one tossed onto my plate.
I glared.
“What?” He shrugged. “You’re too skinny. And I know skinny. I live in the skinny capital of the world. You need to get fatter.”
“Tell me…” I stabbed the pancake imagining it was his face. “Does that line work on every girl?”
“Sweetheart, the girls I screw think laxatives are one of the five food groups.”
“Gross.”
He snorted and stuffed another pancake into his mouth.
“Eat,” he said between bites.
I cut another piece of pancake.
“Is he hotter than me?” Jaymeson asked.
I dropped my fork.
“So that’s a no.” He gave me a smug smile.
“You have syrup on your face.” I pointed to his cheek.
“I know.” He scowled and rubbed his face. “And you lie.”
Shrugging, I answered, “Could have sworn I saw some.”
“So, he’s ugly?” Jaymeson cleared his throat.
“Why are we talking right now?”
His grin seriously had the power to melt the clothes right off my body. “Aw, love, would you rather be doing something else?”
“Stop being creepy,” I said breathlessly.
“Is that why your pulse picked up?” He leaned in. “Because I’m creepy.”
“Fear,” I blurted. “Fear makes a person’s heart race.”
“I don’t doubt you’re afraid.” He bit down hard onto his pancake and chewed, his tongue licking his full lips so slow it was almost hypnotic. “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re afraid of me or yourself.”
“Myself?”
Ignoring me, he checked his watch and cursed. “We gotta go.”
“We? Since when did we become a we?”
“Since I rescued your naked ass this morning.”
“I was not naked—”
“You looked like death.”
I blushed and looked down, nothing like having People’s Sexiest Man Alive two years running telling you that you looked like death.
“Hey.” Suddenly he was in front of me; his fingertips grazed my chin, forcing me to look into his smoldering eyes. “I didn’t mean you looked like death as in you’re not beautiful. I meant you looked like you had a rough night. Trust me, you could get run over by a dump truck and I’d still think you were the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen.”
I jerked away from his touch. “We should, uh, go.” I needed a reality check… fast. The church was waiting and so was my burnt house.
“Yeah.” He cursed. “We should.”
Chapter Eleven
Jaymeson
I told Pris to give me ten minutes. I ran back to my house and brushed my teeth, grabbed my keys, wallet, phone, and sunglasses then briefly contemplated running my face through the glass window.
What the hell was wrong with me? I’d come on to her! I’d basically hit on her! After she survived a freaking house fire! Groaning, I banged my head against the door a few times, maybe the pain would make my lust die down.
But she had been beautiful.
And in my experience, there was nothing worse than an insecure girl and the last thing I wanted was to be the reason for her to feel anything less than what she was. She was gorgeous and she needed to know it.
It hadn’t been a line.
I wasn’t trying to peel her clothes from her body while I said it — which should be evidence enough that it was true.
“Shit.” I hit the door one last time with my hand, then opened it and ran out front.
Priscilla was leaning against the railing staring at my car like it was a spaceship. “Is that yours?”
“If I say yes will you condemn me to hell for spending six figures on a car?” I asked, unlocking the doors. Hopefully it would start after it had been sitting for two months. Demetri had let me park it at their condo which was convenient since the beach house I was renting was next door.
She laughed. She actually laughed. Holy shit, she thought I was hilarious. I swear I felt wings sprout from my body — I was flying.
Holy. Hell.
I was a loser.
“I like cars.” She said it so softly, so quietly, I almost didn’t catch it.
“Pardon?”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop making me repeat myself for your own benefit. I like cars, okay?”
“Quiz time.” I opened my own door and let her in. “Engine type. You have five seconds. Go.”
“Five point two liter V-10 engine with five hundred twenty-five horsepower and three hundred ninety-one pound feet of torque. With an engine based on a Lamborghini, I’m surprised you haven’t wrecked it already.”
And I just had an orgasm.
No joke. Document the moment because Jamie Jaymeson just got off without getting naked or having sex.
“Lucky guess,” I croaked, my body demanding I shut the damn car off and pull the innocent little princess into my lap.
“What?” She laughed. “You surprised?”
“Something like that.” I closed my eyes.
“Dude!” She smacked my arm. “The road?”
“Oh right, what am I thinking?” Insert awkward laugh here as I tell parts of my anatomy to behave. It’s been too damn long. That’s the only reason I was even contemplating touching her.
I moved my arm so it was resting on the middle console and nudged her slightly.
Brilliant. I’d lost my bloody mind and officially turned into a fourteen-year-old with his first girlfriend all in the span of five minutes. I just wanted to touch her skin, even if it meant that it was by way of my elbow grazing her forearm, that was how desperate my body was.