The Best Man (Blue Heron #1)(81)

“Okay,” she whispered.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE WHOLE SEDUCTION thing...easier said than done.

They’d been home for eighteen minutes, and the only one seeing any action thus far was Blue, who’d attached himself to Levi’s leg the second they came through the door. Luckily, she’d asked Eleanor Raines from downstairs to walk the beastie; Ellie fell over herself to worship him on a number of occasions, so Blue was all set for the night. Good thing the dog was here, because conversation wasn’t exactly flying.

Levi was sitting on her couch, having successfully ended the humping session (well, Blue’s humping session) and was now scratching the dog’s ears as her pet stared at him worshipfully, tennis ball in mouth. Faith herself was leaning against the counter, drinking a glass of ice water.

Maybe she’d been wrong about Levi’s intentions. Was it possible, she wondered, that Levi had no idea she wanted him to, ah, do her? If he did, how come he was just sitting there? How exactly did people proceed? Should she just announce it? God, she was nervous! Heart zipping away, hands shaking slightly, stomach in knots. Where was that warm melting sensation from before? Hmm?

What to do, what to do. She and Jeremy had had dozens of conversations on the topic before doing the deed, but obviously, theirs wasn’t the typical male/female dynamic.

The facts were that Levi had kissed her. Twice. Three times, if she counted back a decade or so. And there was the neck stroking. Also, his sister had called nine minutes ago, and he’d let it go to voice mail.

Okay. Faith was gonna go for it. Sort of. In a way.

“Let’s get this party started, shall we?” someone said, and oh, hemorrhoid, it was her very own mouth that had formed those ridiculous words.

Levi gave her a long look. “Really?”

“Shut up, Levi,” she said, her face hot. “You want to get it on or what? Oh, God, I sound like such a slut. You know what? You can go. No hard feelings. America’s Next Top Model is having a marathon, anyway.”

Blue barked, wagging happily. It was his favorite show.

Levi got up. Faith’s heart rate tripled. Oh, yes, yes indeed, he was coming over. To her, or to the door? Oh, lordy, to her. There was a very faint, possibly imagined, smile playing around his mouth, and his eyes had that sleepy, incredibly hot look. He took the glass out of her hand and set it on the counter. Just the brush of his fingers against hers made her knees tingle and weaken. She inhaled the smell of his soap—Ivory, maybe? Who knew? He smelled good. Focus, Faith, focus. A heterosexual male is standing in front of you. Do something about that.

She didn’t. She appeared to be frozen. Well, there was some dried cuticle that could use picking. How about that? That’d be fun. Easier than this. She really didn’t know what she was doing, man-wise. Maybe America’s Next Top Model would be the best option, after all.

Levi put his hands on the counter, trapping her without touching. He was maybe an inch away from her, all bristling testosterone and heat. Faith swallowed, the noise gunshot loud.

“I’d rather stay,” he murmured.

Then he closed the tiny space between them, his body a hard, warm shock, and his mouth found hers.

And it would’ve been great, except, you know, sex was looming.

She tried pursing her lips, and crap, that didn’t feel right. What was she supposed to do, exactly?

“Relax,” Levi said, and she realized he’d stopped kissing her, and she was standing, clenched as tightly as new rope.

“Right,” she said, licking her lips. Unclench, unclench. She loosened her fists. “Okay. I’m trying. Go ahead. Kiss me again.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes. Please. Please kiss me.” Great. Now she was begging.

His eyes were half closed now, those beautiful green eyes, and he leaned in, his hard, muscled arms pulling her against him. Then his lips were against hers, more insistent this time, and Faith tried to kiss him back, but she couldn’t quite breathe.

He sighed and pulled back again. “What’s the problem here, Faith?”

“I don’t have a problem,” she snapped. “Maybe you have the problem. Maybe you’re not as great a kisser as you think. Or maybe I’m worried you’ll hate yourself in the morning. I mean, you’ve kissed me twice now with absolutely no follow-up, so maybe you’re the one with the problem. Jeez.”

He stared. Blue flopped on the floor, belly up. The clock ticked. Futtocks, this was awkward!

“How many men have you slept with?” Levi asked.

Busted. “Uh, counting you?” she said, feeling her chest practically burst into flame with a blush.

His forehead crinkled with that incredulous look she’d seen so many times in their high school years. “We haven’t slept together, Faith.”

“No, I know that. You have a point. Can’t argue with that.” She closed her eyes briefly. America’s Next Top Model was looking better and better.

“So not counting me, how many?”

Faith nodded as if considering the question, glancing at something safer than Levi’s face. The fridge, or the bowl of green apples that had looked so pretty in the market but had tasted so sour in reality. Should really throw those out. “Let’s see,” she said. “Um...one.”

Her heart seemed to curl in on itself in embarrassment.