His all was pretty darned spectacular.
Her thoughts flickered around, going from one fact to the next. Armie liked her. He treated her with respect. He made time for her. He joked with her.
Flopping onto her back, Merissa groaned, because that seriously described how Armie felt about almost everyone. And as to the sex, well, she couldn’t offer him anything new in that arena. So how special could their relationship be?
Turning back to her side, she again hugged her pillow and wished she knew what Armie was thinking.
But since she was pretty sure they weren’t thinking the same things, maybe she was better off not knowing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
AFTER GETTING ALL the deets from Cannon and seeing that Leese was settling in—and that he understood the rules—Armie decided it was time to go after Rissy. For sure she’d been peeved when she’d all but run away from him. Not that he blamed her. Lately it seemed he had so much coming down on his head that he kept a perpetual frown.
He never minded shouldering responsibility, for himself and for others. His shoulders were broad enough to carry plenty. But damn, he was starting to feel weighted down, and a lot of that had to do with worry for Rissy.
After all but begging him to stay, she’d run off and avoided him for the forty minutes he’d been at her house. It wasn’t a problem; he’d put the time to good use and he was, if nothing else, at least in a better frame of mind now.
Cannon had promised to put word out about Bray. He had incredible contacts in the community, so hopefully someone would find the kid before he got into any trouble. Fifteen was too old to have to put up with seeing some abusive ass knock his mom around, and yet it was far too damn young for him to be out on his own. For a hundred different reasons, Armie felt responsible. He checked his phone again, but Bray hadn’t called.
Cannon had also laid out major consequences to his dad—or so he’d said. Somehow Armie had his doubts that it mattered. He knew his old man, knew that when cornered Mac Jacobson reacted like a rabid dog.
He went for the jugular.
Right now his dad might’ve acted compliant, but it wouldn’t last, so on top of worrying for Bray, he now had to wait to see what his seed-donor might do. That rankled big-time, almost cranking his frustration back to the combustible level.
Then he thought about seeing Rissy, maybe talking her into some good old-fashioned physical relief, and his thoughts veered wildly from emotional frustration to sexual awareness.
With his ear to the door, Armie listened to Rissy’s bedroom and heard nothing. He started to knock, changed his mind and quietly turned the knob.
When he was younger, and she’d been too young, he’d had more than one fantasy about visiting her in her ultrafeminine room. About seeing her on her frothy comforter naked. About joining her there. About the things she might do in there all alone during the years she’d been so obviously infatuated with him.
He’d have given a lot to watch her touch herself, to see her get off all hot and sweet while thinking about him.
Predictably, he was already hard as he stepped into the heavy shadows in her room. She’d drawn the drapes but he still saw her on the bed—sound asleep. His heart turned over, expanded, went soft and full. It was an odd combo to feel so tender while sporting a hard-on.
The full-size bed hadn’t changed. She’d gotten the updated furniture when she was seventeen. Armie remembered helping Cannon to carry everything into the house. Back then, she’d had much girlier curtains and the fluffy bedding he remembered so well.
Now everything was classy, but still comfortable and homey—like her. She’d long ago outgrown posters on the walls and stuffed animals on her bed.
Somehow she’d never outgrown her infatuation with him.
He’d thought she would. He’d figured on her moving on, settling down with some nice guy and maybe having a kid or two. Rissy had a very big heart and mothering tendencies that everyone enjoyed. By far, she was the most domestic woman he knew. If you showed up at her place, odds were she’d want to feed you.
Unless, like now, you’d managed to piss her off.
Knowing neither Cannon nor Leese would intrude, Armie slowly stretched out behind her. With one arm around her waist, he drew her against him.
Part of a fantasy, come to life.
Now if only they were naked...
Sounding sleepy, she whispered, “I used to fantasize about this.”
Huh. So he hadn’t been the only one who’d thought of hanky-panky in this particular room? Fascinated, Armie nuzzled against her hair and said, “Wanna share?”
She twisted to face him. Even in the dim light he could see the softness in her blue eyes and the serious way she studied him. Her fingertips traced his mouth. “I didn’t think I’d ever have the incredible Armie Jacobson in my bed.”
He tucked her closer, but didn’t kiss her. Not this time. It’d be in very poor taste to get carried away with her now, with her brother and Leese only a floor away. But God, she tempted him. Always did.
Always would.
He turned his head just enough that her palm settled against his jaw. “I’m sorry I was surly earlier.”
“You’re forgiven.” She took her hand to his neck, over his shoulder, around to his chest and down, until she could slip it up under his shirt. “But only because I know so much is going on, and you have an upcoming fight.”
Grateful and turned on, Armie grinned. “You don’t have to protect me, Stretch. You know that, right? I can take your ire whenever you need to dish it out.”
“And I would have—if you hadn’t apologized.”
“Mmm. One of these days, I might enjoy seeing that.” He scooted closer until her breasts pressed to his chest. “But I am sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you just because I had a shitty day.”
“When we get home,” she whispered, her fingertips seeming to count his ab muscles, “you can show me how truly sorry you are.”
Again it struck him that they needed to talk about the situation. Her calling his apartment “home” made little to no sense. But with everything up in the air, the timing didn’t seem right to go into it.
Would the timing ever be right? He just didn’t know.
“Hey.” She pushed him to his back and crawled half up over his chest. “Why are you not answering?”
“I was just thinking.”
Her eyes narrowed. “About what?”
“Ways to show my sincerity,” he lied. Without thinking it through, his hands went down her back to her tight little ass and, with raging need, he drew her down while lifting against her.
Clearly, she didn’t miss his erection. Voice faint, breath hitching, she whispered, “Armie.”
So sweet. Before she could kiss him, he asked, “You ready to go, honey?”
Groaning, she went flat against him, her head to his shoulder, her breath hot against his neck. Then she said, “Yes,” and rolled off the bed to flip on a light. Arms out straight, she held her fingers in a way to frame Armie in a virtual box. With one eye closed, she murmured, “Just let me take a mental picture first.”
Armie laughed. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you,” she teased right back.
And damn if that didn’t almost stop his heart. The words hit him, melded into him, filled him up. He stared at her, but she went about her business getting ready to leave as if she hadn’t said something so profound.