“Pink. I fucking hate the color pink,” he says, his arms relaxing finally until he locks them behind his neck, and then it’s there—that tiny hint of a smirk that wrinkles the corners of his eyes and clues me in, lets me know that Ty is playing with me.
We’re locked in this staring contest for a few long seconds when Paige interrupts. “Right, well I think I’m done here. Cass, I’ll be out late. You sure you don’t want to come to the party?” Paige asks. She glances between Ty and me, and she already knows my answer. No, I don’t want to go, because standing in front of this man beats the hell out of a dumb party.
“I’m good,” I say, not once taking my eyes off of his. Paige leaves without saying goodbye.
“So, tell me, Cassidy Owens…” he starts, and I wince at hearing my full name.
“Ooooooh, that’s the I’m in trouble tone. I know that one,” I say as I walk backward until I feel the backs of my legs hit the bed, forcing me to sit.
“Oh, you’re in trouble all right,” he says, constantly coming closer until he can reach forward and put his hands on my knees. His touch is a faint tickle at first, but soon his hands have a firm grip on the tops of my legs.
“You started it,” I say, tilting my chin up, keeping the volley going. On instinct, Ty turns and looks at my dresser, remembering his small prank. He curls the side of his mouth into the sexiest smile, the dimple in his cheek shaded by the dark stubble.
“Yeah,” he says, bringing his eyes back to mine. “I sure did.”
I push myself back on the bed, and Ty slides his hands so they’re resting on either side of my body, and then begins to lift himself so he’s hovering over me. I succumb and lie on my back while he pulls himself completely from the chair—holding his chest above mine with his massive arms. They’re perfect, and his biceps are working so hard that his T-shirt looks as if it’s about to rip from his arms, the white fabric hugging it so tightly.
Unable to stop myself, I run my hands up his forearms, onto his biceps, and under the sleeves of his shirt until I can grip his shoulders. Every curve of his body is warm and smooth, the muscle underneath so powerful. “You have the most unbelievable arms. Like, seriously—when I have to write a thesis paper, can I use you as my subject?” I say, letting my gaze wander over his biceps while my hands slowly stroke his skin, admiring every dip and ripple. I know I sound gushy and corny, but seriously, I love his body. It’s a masterpiece.
“Well, fuck,” he says, dropping his forehead to mine and shutting his eyes. He chuckles lightly and shakes his head softly from side to side, our foreheads rolling together. “How am I supposed to be mad about a little pink room when you say shit like that?”
I drag my hands back up his arms until they’re around his neck, and then I let my fingers glide over his jawline, my thumbs in heaven against the rough texture of his chin. God, I swear this man is a lumberjack. “I’m sorry I tricked you,” I say, my lips twitching with nervous energy, just begging him to kiss them again. I have to tuck the bottom one under my teeth just to mask my quivering nerves.
“Yeah, that wasn’t very nice,” he says, licking his lips lightly, his breath hot against my mouth. “I thought that kiss this morning was real.”
“It was,” I say quickly, tilting my face just enough so he’s forced to look into my eyes. I know we’re playing a game right now, but it’s important to me that Ty doesn’t think I’m the kind of girl to give kisses out freely and dishonestly. I’m not that girl anymore, and I’ll never be that girl again. “The only part of this morning that I made up was the part about being locked out of my room. The kissing you part, that was just a perk.”
“Yeah? So I’m, like, on your list of benefits?” he smirks.
“Yeah. It goes: medical, dental, PTO, and Ty Preeter,” I say.
“PTO? What the hell is PTO and how is it before me on the list?” he asks, pushing me flat on the mattress, slowly letting the weight of his body cover mine.
“Uh, paid time off? Like vacation? Sorry, but I need my vacation. I have plans…BIG PLANS! Like Tahoe, the Hamptons, Venice, and London,” I say with a false shrug. Truth be told, Ty’s number one on my list—and he might be the only thing on it at this very moment.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you don’t get vacation. You’ve been a very bad employee,” he says, and his eyes flash this devilish look that warms my entire body.