Four Years Later (One Week Girlfriend #4)(23)

For whatever strange reason, I like that. Makes me feel all possessive and shit.

The light turns green and I hit the gas extra hard, making the car jerk as it lurches forward. I can feel Chelsea’s eyes on me. She’s probably wondering what the f**k is wrong with me and I can’t give her an answer. I have no freaking clue what’s wrong with me.

Yeah, you do. She’s what’s wrong with you.

Within minutes I’m driving into the parking lot of her apartment building, pulling into an empty spot. She climbs out of the car without a word and I do the same, following her as she walks down the sidewalk, then cuts across the grass.

“I got this,” she calls over her shoulder. “Thanks for the ride.”

Now she’s dismissing me? Screw that noise. “I’m not going to let you walk into the darkness and disappear without at least making sure you get to your front door.”

She stops and turns on me, her expression downright ferocious. “So, what? You’re a gentleman now? Give me a break. Like you care. You won’t even answer me when I ask you a question.”

Jesus. So we’ve circled back to that again? I know exactly which question she’s talking about, too. “You don’t want the answer. Trust me.” I already told her what they thought she was to me.

An easy lay. A quick f**k. She’s not, though. Not at all.

“Actually, I do. I’d love the answer.” She marches toward me, her eyes blazing with indignation. She’s furious and beautiful and when she reaches out to shove at my chest, my entire body reacts at her touch.

“I already told you. They think I’m going to try and get into your panties,” I say, wincing the moment I blurt out the words. I’m putting it mildly. Wade’s been on me since he realized I didn’t f**k one of the tramps he brought over last weekend. I woke up Sunday to his endless shit. He thinks I’m hot for Chelsea.

His thinking would be correct.

She stills, her eyes going wide. “Are you?”

“No.” I’m halfway lying, shaking my head. I don’t know what I want from Chelsea exactly, but I do know one thing. “I don’t want to f**k this up.”

“Do you always have to use that word?”

“Yeah.” I grin. Fable still gets on me about my mouth. She’s actually cleaned hers up. Sort of. “I f**king love that word. Always have.”

A ghost of a smile appears, curving Chelsea’s delectable lips. “I think you say it just to irritate me.”

“I probably f**king do.” I glance around, the chill of the night air biting into my skin. She’s gotta be cold, too. “Where’s your apartment?”

“Are you avoiding our conversation again?”

“What’s to avoid? I told you what you wanted to know.”

“So they think you want to get in my panties.” She stumbles over the word panties, which is cute. She contemplates me for a minute, her gaze intense. “What if I told you I don’t wear any?”

Her words startle me so much I cough. Like, start hacking so hard I have to bend over to try and catch my breath, my hands on my knees as I stare at the dew-covered lawn before me. The image of my pretty little tutor not wearing any panties beneath those jeans that look painted on her body almost pains me. Makes my fingers itch to touch her. Undo the snap and slide the zipper down and see if she’s telling me the truth or not.

“So.” I clear my throat. “Are you wearing any? Panties?” I ask when I finally find my voice again. I stand up straight, hands on hips, my lungs still burning.

She smiles. Fuck, she’s cute. “Yes. I am. Sorry. I tricked you.”

Well, hell. That’s a disappointment. “Come on.” I go to her, grab her by the crook of her arm, and start walking with her. “Which building is yours?”

Chelsea points it out and I take her there, following her up the stairs as I check out her butt. Again. My mind is now filled with images of her with no panties on. Picturing that perfect ass of hers naked makes my c**k twitch.

“So I’ll see you Wednesday?” I ask as she unlocks her door. I’m leaning against the rough stucco of the building, noticing that her fingers shake the slightest bit as she tries to turn the key. It takes her a couple of attempts before she flips the lock and opens the door.

I wonder if I make her nervous.

“Yes.” She flashes me a quick look. “Thanks for helping me out tonight.”

“No problem. Maybe we could … meet again sometime.” What the f**k do I mean by that?

Don’t go there, Maguire.

“To work on your assignments?” She turns to face me fully, her hand clutching the door handle. She could just slip inside if she wanted to. There’s no need to finish this conversation.

But here she is. Talking to me. Showing interest. There’s more going on between us than I want to admit. She feels it, too. I know she does.

“Yeah,” I say, lying through my teeth. I want to see her again but not to work on assignments. “I usually have practice tomorrow night but since I’m suspended from the team, I’m free. But only if you can get together, of course.”

“Of course.” She offers me a grim smile. “But I have to work.”

“What time?”

“I go in at eight and work till two.”