Page 29 of Reckless With You

We were friends, and we’d basically seen each other naked at this point. We’d slept in the same bed. I figured we’d passed the line into a new kind of friendship.

One where I could make her eat my cooking, and hope she didn’t look as exhausted as she had the last time I saw her.

I really wanted to kick Tobey’s ass.

I ignored the come-on from the lady in the pasta department, and the one from the man in the meat section—because that wasn’t a cliché or anything. Apparently, this time of the evening was when all the singles went out in my town to try and find a date. I’d have to think about that the next time I went out. Maybe I could find a date. And it would not be with Amelia. We were friends. Damn it.

I needed to stop having dreams about her. Fantasies about her and those very hot nipples. Ones that begged for my mouth.

Just as I imagined her mouth on my body as she had moved the towel away from me before going down to her knees. And that was enough of that.

I really did not need a hard-on as I drove toward Amelia’s house.

I pulled up into her driveway and went to get my groceries from the back.

Thankfully, I only had three big bags. Of course, they were the reusable bags that held a lot more stuff than the plastic ones, so I might’ve gone a little overboard. But Amelia needed groceries.

Or maybe Devin was simply being overprotective. After all, that’s what big brothers did.

I rang the doorbell and figured that I was either making a colossal mistake, or I was doing the right thing.

I wanted to do the right thing.

Amelia opened the door, and I held back a wince.

Her hair was a little greasy, piled up on the top of her head. She had dark circles under her eyes, and I swore she had lost at least ten pounds over the past couple of weeks.

She had on baggy sweats, a tank with no bra—damn her and those nipples!—and a zippered sweatshirt that she hadn’t zipped up. She wore no shoes, no makeup, and even though she still looked beautiful, she looked exhausted. And sad.

I wanted to hold her close and tell her that everything would be okay.

But because I couldn’t really do that, I was going to at least try to cook for her.

“Tucker?”

I grinned and pushed past her. I probably should’ve waited for an invitation, but I was afraid that she might not give me one, and I needed to take care of her. She needed to eat.

“I’m cooking you dinner.”

“Excuse me?”

I just grinned and acted like this was totally normal. It wasn’t normal at all.

I set the bags on the counter and smiled. “I’m cooking you dinner.”

“Why?”

“Because you need it. You need food. I need food. So, I’m making it.”

She folded her arms under her breasts, and it made the silken white skin of her mounds peek out from her tank a bit more.

Damn it. This was not going to help my dreams later.

“Because you feel bad for me, too?”

“No.”

That was the truth. I didn’t feel bad for her. I was angry, but there wasn’t any pity there. I didn’t feel bad at all.