Damn, she’s cute.
“Are you blushing?”
“Um…no.”
“Yeah you are—you should see how ruddy your skin is.”
She turns to face me, coffee cup in hand, eyes in gorgeous, narrow slits. Should I not have called her complexion ruddy?
“No, Kip—this is rug burn.”
Well shit.
That’s not cool.
I laugh to myself, not stupid enough to say it out loud.
“You mean beard burn.”
Teddy snorts. “Let’s be honest, it’s the exact same thing. I might as well have dragged my face and crotch across the carpet last night.”
The visual almost makes me laugh.
“That wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.” I grin, moving toward the coffee that’s already brewed in the pot. Fill myself a mug, dump in a bunch of creamer, drop in some sugar, and lean against the counter, watching her.
Stir it with a spoon, sipping every so often as she regards me.
“It doesn’t look terrible,” I try, lying.
“Two minutes ago you asked why my face looked ruddy. Ruddy. Of all the words in the world to use.”
“I mean…” It does though.
Dark red patches mar her otherwise beautiful skin like a rash, and I wonder what it looks like between her legs, on the insides of her silky thighs. Wonder if she’ll let me have a look-see in the light of day.
“Could you not stare?”
“I can’t help it.” I laugh. “I’ve never done that to anyone before.”
She scowls. “Yeah, because you’re a freaking giant covered in hair. I cannot believe I made out with a guy they call Sasquatch. I mean, really Teddy?” She sounds appalled at herself.
“Technically, you didn’t make out with anyone—I made out with your vagina.”
She frowns harder. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
I smirk into my cup. “Maybe. I mean, it’s not the end of the world.”
“What am I going to say to my friends when they notice this?”
“Can’t you cover it up with makeup?”
“Mariah is going to see me without it.”
“So?”
“So! What am I going to say?”
“Tell her we made out and I went down on you.” I shrug my shoulders. “What’s the big deal?”
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “I…I can’t…”
“It was oral, not anal. I don’t see what the big deal is.” Why is she acting so damn strange about this? “You can’t tell your friends I went down on you?”
“No. I mean…yes. I mean no.”
I stare, waiting for her to make some fucking sense.
“I can, I’m just not going to. They wouldn’t understand.”
Those chicks? The ones who get laid by someone different every weekend? They would applaud Teddy, not judge her for it.
My lips tighten into a straight line.
“If I said something about this—about us—they would keep asking for details, and then I would feel…weird, because we’re not, you know…seeing each other or whatever.”
I can see that happening. “I guess.”
Teddy ducks her head again, hiding her face. Hiding her feelings and shit.
“Plus,” she ventures slowly. “It’s not like…” Clears her throat. “It’s not going to happen again.”
It’s not?
Because I can still smell her on me—on the whiskers of my beard—and if she hadn’t been sitting at the counter when I came up from the basement, I would have climbed back into bed with her, under the covers from the foot of the bed and woken her up between her legs.
Woken her tight ass up with my mouth on her delectable pussy.
Yeah.
I’m gonna want more of that.
“You can’t un-ring a bell, Teddy Johnson.”
“What?” My reference is clearly lost on her.
My wide shoulders shrug again. “You heard me. The deed is done—we can’t go back so we might as well keep doing it.”
“Um, I get we can’t go back and undo it, but it doesn’t mean we have to keep doing it. We should probably—”
“Too late.”
“But—”
“Nope.”
“Stop doing that.”
“Next time you come over, I’ll probably purposely cut the line for the furnace so it’s freezing cold.”
Teddy rolls her eyes and it’s adorable. “Like I’d fall for that.”
“Worth a try.”
“What are you saying? That you want to have me over again?”
“Don’t you like being here?”
“Yes, but I’m not going to come just so we can fool around.”
“We’ll watch movies too. And eat.” Each other, obviously.
“Kip.”
“Teddy.”
She stands, frustrated by the conversation. Grabs the jacket off the back of her chair and tosses her ponytail. “I should go.”
I study her across the counter. “All right. Let me grab my keys and put shoes on.”
She knows not to argue; we’ve had this conversation once before. Plus, it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and I know she won’t want to walk home. Not that I’d let her.
“Thank you.”
Teddy watches as I squat, grab my boots, and tie the strings, one at a time, bent over at the waist, fingers at work. When I glance up, those brown eyes of hers are intense, fixated on my hands.
Yeah, that’s right—these fingers were inside you last night. Take a long, hard look at them and imagine wanting them back on your body.
“I have a game tonight if you wanna come by.” Pull my laces tight then get to work on the other boot.
“Tonight?” Her brows go up, surprised.
“Yeah. It’s just a scrimmage, but it’ll be fun—cold, but fun.”
“Uh…maybe?”
“Teddy?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t overthink it, okay?”
“I’m not!” She answers too quickly, and I laugh, because she totally is.
“Sure you’re not.” I wink flirtatiously, rising to my full height. “You might like it—coming tonight, I mean.”
I’m talking about the game, but it sounds like I mean something else.
“I’m sure I would.”
“It’s at Anderson Square Park. Five o’clock.”
“All right.”
“You’ll come?”
“I’ll…think about it.”
She’s going to come—I fucking know it. She’s too sweet to stand me up.
Just like she’s too nice to tell her “friend” to go fuck herself.
I make quick work of running her home, dropping her off in the front drive of her apartment building. Scowl when I think about the fact that she lives in a ground-level unit.
Remember that we still haven’t exchanged numbers. “Want to put your cell in my phone?”
“Um, sure.”
After, I let my car idle so I can watch her walk up to her building. She glances back over her shoulder twice, giving me a tentative little wave both times.
So damn cute.
***
TEDDY
Kip: I have an assignment for you.
Me: Do I want to know what it is?
Kip: Probably not. And you’ll probably think it’s really inappropriate.
Me: Then maybe you shouldn’t tell me.
Kip: Okay.
Minutes tick by and I can’t for the life of me conjure up a mature reply. Towel wrapped around my midsection, I lean against the counter, palming my phone, staring at the screen. Waiting for Kip to text me again.
He doesn’t.
I can’t stand it.
Me: Fine. What is it?
Kip: You have to touch yourself inappropriately.
Me: What is that supposed to mean?
Kip: You know…masturbate.
Me: You’re right—that’s not at all an appropriate thing to say to someone.
And he has completely shocked me.
Kip: I thought we were past the stage of being awkward with each other.