Accidentally Amy(52)

But it would.

Chapter 17

Blake
“How old were you?” Blake asked.
“Five,” she replied, toeing off her shoes in the entryway as Blake shut the door behind them.
“Seems like you should’ve been old enough to know better,” he said, wondering when the hell he’d become the kind of guy who liked hearing childhood stories. He usually didn’t give a shit about preschool antics, but with Izzy, he could listen all day. You told me ‘bout your past, thinking your future was me - the lyric came at him out of nowhere.
“Maybe Scotty was a little shit - did you ever think of that?” she asked, her nose crinkled as she pretended to be pissed. “Did anyone?”
He watched her pull the ponytail out of her hair, then dig in all ten fingers to shake it out. Those little mannerisms were somehow something to him all of a sudden. He wanted to learn every single one. He crossed his arms and said said, “But you said he cried every time he saw you coming.”
“Are you going to talk about Scotty the Shit all day, who probably deserved my bites, or are you going to show me how to work your fancy showerhead? I only used the jetty tub when I watched the cats.”
He grabbed her hand, linked his fingers through hers and pulled her toward the master bathroom.
“You know,” she said as he flipped on the bathroom light, “It’d probably be best for the planet if we just showered at the same time.”
“I do love the planet,” he said, opening the glass door and turning on the water.
“I knew it,” she said, leaning down to pull off her socks.
“But I think you just want to see me naked.”
She straightened and shook her head. “That’s a mighty big ego you have, sir.”
“I think you want to see my mighty big--”
“Shhh.” She covered his mouth with her hand, giggling. “Don’t say it.”
“Say what?” he said from behind her palm, feigning innocence even though they were both remembering the night before.
The things she’d said.
The things he’d said.
She leveled a look of warning at him before dropping her hand.
“What?” He squinted and said, “You can’t say it now? Because I seem to recall that pretty mouth saying some filthy things in my bedroom.”
Her eyes sparkled with humor, with challenge as she stepped out of her shorts and pulled off his t-shirt, then stripped down to nothing. “I’d rather use my mouth for other things. You coming?”
She walked around him and stepped into the shower. He just stood there, frozen, looking at naked Izzy as she turned away from the shower stream, so the water was hitting her back, and she leaned her head all the way back to get her hair wet.
Because she hated getting her face wet. You told me ‘bout your past, thinking your future was me.
He was naked in a second and stepping into the shower, his hands reaching for her waist to pull her close. She grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down to her level and kissing the hell out of him. The hunger of it, the want, nearly buckled his knees as he squeezed her waist and tried keeping up with her.
Hot water poured over them as warmth pulsed through his veins. This…this he could do forever. He reached around her to grab the body wash, not breaking contact with her mouth as he squeezed out liquid soap and started lathering her back. His hands traveled all over her slick skin, back-to-front, head-to-toe.
He was a junkie for her responses. A sigh was great at first, but then he needed a moan. When his hands made her moan, his adrenaline spiked and he could barely breathe from the burning need to hear her scream. And when his mouth delivered that sound, he finally felt like he had his fix.
Until she slid down his body, her fingers scraping down his thighs, and she proceeded to make him lose the capacity to think at all.


    Izzy
“Seriously? You really think Patrick Mahomes is the guy?”
“Not only can the guy pass and scramble, look at how he just creates things on the field. Makes stuff happen. This goes way beyond his quarterback rating. Just look what he did last week,” Blake said, cracking open a peanut shell. “It’s a no-brainer.”
“Last week is last week, this week is this week,” she said, tugging on the bottom of the Beastie Boys T-shirt she’d stolen from Blake’s closet and had been wearing all day. After all, they’d fought for her right to party, and she wanted to pay them respect for that. It was getting chilly and she was going to need to put on pants soon, but the game had just started and she was too comfy to go all the way to the bedroom.
“Wow.” Blake gave her a look and tossed an empty shell in her direction. “SO profound.”
“Profundity is my forte.”
“Profundity isn’t even a word.”
“Googling, dipshit.” Izzy laughed and opened Google, intent on proving him wrong. They were each sitting on opposite ends of her couch - because she’d forced him to scoot over as punishment for calling her fantasy football team weaksauce - but then The Darkling had ruined everything by settling on his lap so he couldn’t come back to her.
She loved what a closet cat lover he was.
“Boom - profundity,” she said, reading the definition aloud, but he just shook his head and tossed more peanuts in her direction.
After the shower at his place, he’d brought her home so she could feed the cat and, well, go home. But instead of saying goodbye, she’d invited him in to watch football and they’d been doing that the entire day. Sunday Night Football was just about to start, and Izzy was bummed that the weekend was coming to an end. It’d been so perfect it was terrifying.