One Funeral (No Weddings #2)(27)

When we walked into Cade’s bedroom to study, I squealed at seeing his bed and took a flying leap onto it. Then I remembered Dwight doing the same thing to the beach-bunny cake and burst out laughing. When I rolled over, Cade shook his head at me with a smirk on his face.

Thirty minutes later, he had us working on separate assignments. At his desk with his back to me, he typed with furious speed on his laptop. I laid facedown in the center of his bed, hand scrawling a list of brainstorming ideas onto a lined notepad. Resting the end of the pen on my lip, I smiled at my purple lined paper. Cade had bought both for me, and the thought of him buying purple paper in an office supply store never failed to amuse me.

There are worse things I suppose, like buying tampons. Why do men think it would be the total end of the world to buy a box? They should be grateful it’s tampons and not something really horrid, like hemorrhoid cream. I laughed at the thought.

Cade’s office chair swiveled around on a creak. “What’s so funny?”

Pressing my lips together, I shook my head. “Nothing.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Bullshit.”

I teased him in a lilting singsong voice, “I’m nooot telliiing.”

Faster than I could register his movement, he snatched my notepad away. He scanned the list I’d made. “This isn’t funny.” He glanced back at the notepad. “It’s actually quite innovative.”

Making grabby hands with my fingers, I reached for the list. “Give it back. I’m not done yet.”

He held it high above his head. “First, I want to know what you were laughing at.”

The corners of my lips twitched. “Men buying tampons.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You are a complex and twisted woman.”

Biting my lip to fight a smile, I shrugged. “You asked. Now gimme.”

His eyes glittered with amusement and something a bit darker as he watched me, continuing on as if I hadn’t said a word. “And yet I like you anyway. I like you a lot, actually. Maybe because of your crazy mind and not in spite of it.”

“Gee, thanks.” I rolled my eyes, trying not to beam in happiness at his words.

My shoulder muscles began to cramp from my propped-elbows position. I pushed my arms forward, stretching, then rolled over, pulling my arms higher over my head while pointing my bare feet toward his nightstand. At his silence, I glanced back at him.

He stared at me, a deep intensity in his eyes, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. “I like seeing you sprawled out on my bed.”

Feeling a bit wicked and way too unfiltered from the second glass of wine at dinner, I smirked. “Yeah? And why is that?”

I expected him to go all kinds of naughty with that fodder, but he simply stared at me. Then his expression softened, like the reasons opened up deeper in his mind, and he couldn’t quite put words to them yet. “It’s hard to explain.”

My lips relaxed into a gentle smile. “Try.”

On a deep breath, he tilted his head. “This is my world, my private space. And from the very first moment you stepped into it, instead of being uncomfortable in my surroundings and sitting in a chair, you immediately gravitated to my bed, where I sleep—where I’m at my most vulnerable. Every time you stretch out there, you seem so relaxed, comfortable…happy.”

An odd warmth blossomed in my chest; my heart might have actually melted. “It’s because I am. I feel safe here in your room. On your bed.”

The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled as his smile broadened. “I like that. A lot.”

“Good.” Glancing up at him as the conversation lulled, I realized I was still on my back, limbs stretched wide. Almost spread-eagle. Heat flushed across my skin when his expression changed as if on the same wavelength.

His eyes darkened as he leaned forward in his chair, raking an electrifying gaze over my body. Chills broke out across my skin under his scrutiny, my nipples tightening under my thin T-shirt when his attention paused on my chest.

He let out a measured breath. “I can’t wait for you to feel in my bed.”

I let my thoughts fly. “Feel what?”

Emotions flickered across his face, like he battled with how naughty he wanted to go. Eventually, the wicked gleam in his eyes and smirk on his lips told me he’d decided to play.

Leaning closer, he rested his forearms on his thighs. “Feel everything.”

I rolled onto my side, resting my head onto my propped up hand. “How vague. Care to be more specific?”

“No. I’m not broadcasting the itinerary. Some things are best experienced, not planned.”

Arching my brow, I pursed my lips together. “Are you telling me you haven’t thought about it? Of us naked, here in your bed?” I patted the comforter in illustration, in case he needed the visual. I was having fun teasing him. With the tension I saw in the twitching muscles of his arms and thighs, I knew he enjoyed my playing too.

“Oh, I’ve thought of it. Fantasized about it. Imagined every position I’d bend you into, each sound you’d make, and how you’d plead for mercy, then beg for more.”

My pulse kicked up, and my smile faded. I blinked and swallowed hard. Everything had gone bone-dry from my neck up. With the pulsing ache between my legs, it was likely due to all the wetness flooding elsewhere.