Chase Me (Broke and Beautiful #1)(45)

“I suppose you want some kind of reward now?” she said for his ears alone.

He stopped in front of her stool and laid a warm hand on her knee. “Reward? Nah.” His touch set off an electric chain reaction, shooting up her thighs and into her belly. His wink told her he knew exactly what he was doing. “But I’ll take a beer if you have one.”

“Sorry, we’re tequila girls.” She laid a hand over his and inched it higher. “Abby has some pinot grigio in the fridge, though. I’d say you’re her favorite person right now, so she’d definitely share.”

He made a face. “If a man drinks pinot grigio, he grows boobs. It’s science.” Roxy started to laugh again, but he silenced her with his lips, taking her mouth in a slow, drugging kiss. “What about you? Who’s your favorite person right now, Roxy?”

“It’s a tough call.” She wanted to roll her eyes at the breathlessness she heard in her voice. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Is that right?” His lips brushed over her jaw, traced a line up to her ear. “You want to show me where you sleep while you think about it?”

“You have all the good ideas.” She slid forward off the stool, giving him a challenging look when he refused to move back to give her room. Ignoring the shit-eating grins Abby and Honey threw their way, she led Louis to her bedroom. When they walked inside, she tried to see it through his eyes. There wasn’t much to it, especially when compared to the expensively furnished apartment he had all to himself. Her bed was low to the ground, basically a glorified futon. Her clock radio and phone chargers were plugged into the wall and resting on the floor, since she had no nightstand. A chest of drawers she’d found at a flea market sat wedged in the corner, makeup and jewelry scattered across the top. She had two framed posters hanging on the wall, though, which she considered to be her pride and joy. A vintage King Kong poster she’d once bartered from a roommate in exchange for her Sex and the City box set. And another movie poster for the Tom Hanks classic Splash.

She turned, expecting to find him shaking his head over her eclectic taste in movies, but instead found him surveying the room with a concerned look. As soon as he noticed her watching him, it vanished. Only a glimpse and it was gone. Still, that hint of sympathy made her stand up a little bit straighter. Maybe she only had a small room to herself, but she was happy here. She was proud of her space, meager though it might be. She felt the sudden need to regain the upper hand with Louis. The feeling wasn’t welcome, she wanted to just let it go. Pretend he didn’t look so glaringly out of place in her room, but she couldn’t.

Hoping to distract them both from her living quarters while taking a little bit of her pride back, Roxy closed the distance between them. His gaze went darker with every step she took in his direction, and their mouths met in a slow, hungry glide of lips and tongues. Bodies pressed together and molded, curve against muscle. Between them, she let her hands drift to the hem of his shirt before sliding underneath to trace his ridged abdomen with her fingers.

“Rox, hold up.” He broke away, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I, uh . . . like your room.”

“Thank you.” Liar. She drew the hem higher to reveal his hard chest and laid an openmouthed kiss on his hot skin. “It would look even better if you took your shirt off.”

A groan escaped his lips. “You in a hurry, or something?”

Impatience had her gritting her teeth. “Why don’t you just take what you came for, Louis?”

He tipped her chin up with a firm hand, all traces of heat gone. “Excuse me?”

She shoved his hand away, knowing she was being insecure and creating conflicts that didn’t need to exist, but she was unable to stop it. On top of this underlying worry that she was becoming too attached to a potential player, she didn’t like feeling inadequate. He might not throw their economic differences in her face, but they were there. She’d seen it when he’d looked around her sparsely furnished room. “Isn’t that what your little show was about? Bringing my roommates ice cream and playing the hero? You said it yourself over the phone that we only got started this morning.”

“Yeah. I meant it, too.” His eyes snapped with temper. “But I didn’t come over here just to ‘get my reward,’ as you so subtly put it. And I’m sure as hell not f*cking you while your roommates listen outside in the hallway.”

Two sets of bare feet scurried away from the door, making Roxy wince. “Too bad. This is where I live. I’m sorry the accommodations aren’t good enough.”

“Don’t do that.” He looked disappointed. “Don’t give me that shit.”

He saw through her so easily. It made her feel restless. She crossed her arms over her chest with a jerky movement. “What did you come here for?”

“To see you.” He shouted the words at the ceiling. “To take you out. Why do you keep expecting me to be an *, Roxy? I don’t get it. It’s like you’re hoping for it.”

Dammit, he was right. He was one hundred percent right. She wanted him to be an * so she’d have a reason to not give a shit when he stopped calling. Stopped showing up with shoes and ice cream and peanut butter and banana f*cking sandwiches. She just wanted it to end now before her feelings got any murkier than they already were. That involved pushing him away before he did anything wrong. What she really wanted was to throw herself into his arms and apologize. Unfortunately, she was a little rusty in the apology department. Which came in a close second to admitting she was wrong. So she simply sat there and let him draw his own conclusions.