Harder (Caroline & West #2)(68)

“Yep.”

“You should come down this weekend,” he says. “We could see a movie.”

“I can’t.” It’s the truth, but I probably would have said the same thing even if it weren’t. “I’ve got plans here. Thanks, though.”

“All right. Well, call me if you hear from these people. Or … You know. If you need me for anything.”

“I will.”

West cracks the door open, looks in to see if I’m still on the phone.

“I’ve got to go, Dad,” I say.

“Okay. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight.”

I hear him say, “I love you” as I’m hanging up, but it’s too late to say it back.

West sits down next to me. He slides his hand down my blanket-covered leg and squeezes my toes. I wiggle them in his grip, relieved for no good reason that he’s here.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. He just wanted to warn me about a phone call he thought I couldn’t be trusted to handle without his advice.”

“You sound testy.”

“I am testy.” I thought I’d established boundaries with my dad last year. I thought we had an understanding, but every time I turn around I have to remind him once more that I’m a grown-up now.

And then there were those two words: expert witness.

West drags his hand up my thigh. “Me, too. Frankie’s driving me f*cking nuts.”

“Sorry. She doesn’t do that with me.”

“Because she worships the ground you walk on.”

“It’s a girl thing. I remember when I was her age, I was completely in love with my music teacher. She had long blond hair and wore silver jewelry and diamond studs, and she smelled like spicy perfume. I couldn’t decide if I wanted her to be my mom or my girlfriend. She lived down the street from us and hired me to feed her cats when she was out of town.”

“You don’t even like cats.”

“I know. But I spent hours in her house looking at all her stuff and thinking how I was going to have a place decorated exactly like hers someday, and I would dress like her and act like her. It would be impossibly glamorous.”

West gives me a once-over. I’m wearing jeans and a ratty sweatshirt. I put my hair in a loose ponytail right after I showered this morning and left it there. Some of it’s probably still wet.

“Impossibly glamorous, huh?”

“Shut up. Your sister thinks I’m glamorous.”

“We both do. We can’t help it. You’re the most glamorous creature either of us has ever met.”

I lean forward and shove his shoulder. He catches me under the arms and drags me over his body as he lies down. We end up crossways on the bed, laughing.

When he tries to pull me close enough to kiss, I resist.

“C’mon, princess,” he whispers. “Cheer me up.”

“In thirty seconds, your sister’s going to be all, ‘What are you guys doing in there? Eew! Gross! Knock it off!’ ”

“I know. We have to hurry up and do something really gross before she notices.”

He tugs again, and I let him kiss me. His mouth is soft, his tongue hot and demanding. It takes about four seconds for me to forget why I’m supposed to be resisting his demands. Four more to get over my grumpiness.

I feel a slackening around my breasts and his hot palms move beneath the bra he’s just unfastened. He cups my breasts, making my nipples ache.

The damp surge of need that follows makes me moan.

When Frankie knocks on the door, I’m far enough gone to be startled. I jump, and West pinches one nipple hard, which makes me hiss.

“Shh,” he says. His other hand tightens on my ass, fingers digging low and deep and dirty, making the ache between my legs worse.

“West?” Frankie calls. “Are you ordering Chinese or not? I’m hungry.”

“She’s evil,” I whisper. I tilt my hips and grind against his erection. He’s so hard. If his sister weren’t here …

But his sister’s always going to be here.

“I know,” he whispers back. “I’m a complete failure as a parent.”

Frankie bangs on the door again. “You better not be doing anything gross in there!”

“Do you want Chinese?” he asks me.

“I’m fine with it.”

“Yeah, but what do you want?”

I smile down at him. Rub myself against his erection. “That.”

Grinning, he asks, “What do you want that you can actually have before Franks goes to bed?”

“To finish my reading.”

“You want me to keep her out of your hair?”

“Nope.”

“You’ll tell me if she is.”

“I’ll tell her if she is. Remember? I deal with Frankie and me. You deal with Frankie and the rest of the world.”

She pounds on the door again. “West? I’m starving.”

“Lay off, will you?” he calls. “We’ll be out in a second.”

“What are you doing in there?”

“Putting away laundry.”

“And I’m the Queen of Sheba.”

He lifts an eyebrow and whispers, “Queen of Sheba? Where does she get this shit?”