Page 25 of Worth Every Game
I take it from him, cupping it with both hands. “Thank you.” He watches my fingers, and I eye him over the rim of the mug. “I’m not living with you,” I add.
He flashes that handsome smile. “Come on. You know you want to. Pack your stuff. I’ll get you moved in next week.”
“What? No. You can’t do that. You—”
He hovers his foot over the pedal bin, shooting me a cheeky grin.
Oh, no.“Stop!”
Ignoring my interjection, he presses his foot down, and the bin lid squeals wide, revealing my slippers again, right there on the top. Perfect. Almost new. I cringe at how obvious it is that there’s nothing wrong with them. It’s like they’re screaming all my secrets, revealing that I threw them away in a strop because they prevented me and Jack hooking up.
He picks them out and holds them up. “You might want to bring these though. You know… for when I do want to fuck you.”
My mouth opens and closes, but words fail me.Fucking arsehole. He tosses the slippers across the room, and they land by my chair.
He’s smirking, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Why did you throw them away? Having regrets about the other night?”
Yes. “No,” I spit, but Jack’s so amused that he barely takes a breath before he continues.
“Wish we’d fucked instead?”
That’s it. That’s enough.I slam the tea down on the table, and liquid slops over the edge as I leap from my seat. “You are such an arsehole. Fuck.” I shift from foot to foot, pumped full of nervous energy that I can’t control, while Jack keeps grinningat me like he’s enjoying the show. “I am not living with you. I refuse. I absolutely refuse.”
There’s an angry scrape to my words. I bend down, grab the slippers, and hurl them at him in rapid fire, one after the other.
He ducks, hands over his head, as they hit his arms and fall to the floor. He looks like he’s desperately trying to contain laughter, his face contorting with the effort. And damn it, it makes me want to laugh too, because this is ridiculous. We’re ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.
Everything about this is stupid.
But I don’t laugh. Instead, I stalk right over to him and start tugging off my cowboy boots. He watches me, eyes twinkling like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen.
Vaguely, through the haze of irritation, I’m aware that I like the feel of his eyes on me.I don’t want him to stop watching.
I’m hopping on one foot to tug the boot off, then the other, and finally, when I’m free, I slide my feet into the slippers and put my hands on my hips.
“Go on.” I jerk my chin at the door, trying to convince him—to convince myself—that I’m mad at him, when really, I’m full of a strange, bubbling warmth. “Go and find someone else to play your stupid games with. I’m not interested. Get out.”
Jack doesn’t move, and the air between us crackles. He takes a small step towards me, his voice soft when he says, “I only want to play with you.”
I’m speechless.What?
“Three months, El,” he whispers. “We can manage that, can’t we?”
I frown. It’s notthatlong.
He must notice my hesitation because he leans a little closer, and says, “Come and live with me, please.”
Please.
I’m undone.
The energy skating between us prickles against my skin, and the sweetness of the tension feels like temptation.I want to do this.“I don’t want to share a bathroom with you.”
He pulls back, his lips tipping up at the corners. “You won’t have to.”
“Or a bedroom.”
Jack’s full on smiling at me now, making my heart flutter. “I promise, no shared bedrooms.”