Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(54)

Her oversized T-shirt and extra-tight bicycle short–looking things should not have made him even harder than he was. But they did.

He scoured her face, trying to find any hint that she knew what she was doing—that she was the single most tempting creature he had ever seen and he wanted to devour her. There wasn’t any indication she knew. She was sexy and beautiful in her ridiculous outfit without even trying. And she wasn’t his to touch.

“Pizza sounds great,” he said, whipping around and heading for the bathroom. “Get whatever you want. I’ll leave my wallet on the table.”

“Where are you going?” she asked, and Rake could hear more plucking at the spandex.

“Shower,” he croaked out, moving as fast as he could toward the bathroom, for the coldest, longest shower of his life.





Chapter 27




LIZZIE was learning all sorts of interesting things about her baby daddy. For starters, he took exceptionally long showers.

The pizza had been delivered over twenty minutes ago, and she waited impatiently for him to emerge. Lizzie sniffed at the closed box, salivating like a dog. She glanced at the firmly shut bathroom door then lifted the lid. It wasn’t like he’d know if she ate some of the toppings. Maybe she could even convince him the pizza was delivered with a missing slice. She didn’t want to be rude and eat without him, but the water had stopped some time ago, and at this point she assumed he was either jerking off or had diarrhea.

Either way, she didn’t want to knock and interrupt him, but she was also close to perishing from starvation.

She walked over to the door, about to press her ear to it so she could gauge how much more time he’d need to take care of business, when it was pulled open.

She jumped back, looking as busted as she felt. But her guilt of being caught was quickly replaced by one single thought.

Body. Body. Body.

Rake stood in nothing but a towel, his skin still damp from the shower. Little droplets of water kissed and hugged the muscles of his torso and traveled down to his navel and below the towel’s edge. Ah, to be a drop of water resting between that V at his hip bones to then slip down below and caress that lovely dong.

“What are you doing?” Rake asked, retreating a step into the bathroom like she was going to pounce on him.

Lizzie cleared her throat, trying to drag her eyes from the planes of muscles up to his face, but her vision got tangled in the wet mess of his hair, looking boyish and beautifully mussed from the towel he must have run through it.

“Are you sick?” she asked, her voice sounding too sultry, even to her own ears.

His eyebrows pinched together. “No? Why?”

“You just took a while. I thought maybe you had…” She trailed off, trying to lift her horny eyes from the slight bulge they’d noticed in the front of the towel.

“Had what?”

“Diarrhea,” she whispered, making eye contact with his nipples.

“What? No!” Rake said, horrified. A blush touched his cheeks.

“Oh, don’t look so scandalized. Everyone poops.” She gave him a teasing poke in the abs. He flinched, the spot ticklish, but Lizzie was the one to giggle. She catalogued the reaction, her brain wanting to soak up every detail.

“Oh my God, please stop,” he said, lightly smacking her hand away and gripping the towel tighter around his waist. “I realized five minutes in that I didn’t have any clothes, and we’re out of clean towels, and it took me a second to find one that wasn’t damp and make sure it was mine and…” He trailed off, running his hands through his hair. “Did you order the pizza?” he said, maneuvering past her toward his dresser. Lizzie watched the muscles of his back tighten and release with every step.

Get a grip, you horny monster.

“Yep,” she said, trying to sound casual as she flopped onto the couch. She bit into one of the throw pillows and kicked her feet for a second while he wasn’t looking, needing to get out some of the naughty energy building inside her. She could hear him searching through his drawers, the whisper of fabric as he pulled a T-shirt down his body. She threw open the pizza box and shoved a slice into her mouth. Fuck it, she needed stimulation from something.

“What toppings did you get?” he asked, moving around the TV stand toward the couch. He sat down, his thighs slightly spread and inviting, the loose fabric of his workout shorts riding up to show the definition of muscle and dusting of leg hair. She wanted to perch like a horny little bird on his lap. Even his kneecaps were sexy. It was ridiculous.

“Pineapple,” she said through a mouthful.

“Bold choice.”

“Oh shit, do you not like pineapple? I forgot how controversial of a topping it is. It’s what Indira and I always get.”

“No, I love it. Great pick.”

“Ugh, coparenting will be such a breeze at this rate,” she said, holding up her hand for a high five. He slapped her palm, and they shared an indulgent smile. Buddies. Partners in crime.

Clueless idiots.

He leaned forward and grabbed a piece. A long strand of cheese dangled from the end, and he lifted the slice high, catching the string between his teeth.

Lizzie watched, completely enraptured by the swipe of his tongue to grab the inch of cheese that stuck to his chin. She shoved the remaining half of her slice into her mouth so she wouldn’t say anything stupid or obscene or embarrassing or make this already bizarre situation of a sexually charged platonic living arrangement any worse.