“I do like the ladies,” he said. “But I don’t bring them here.”
What?
“What?” I voiced that same damn question in my head as earlier. This man was certainly full of surprises.
“My home is mine. I don’t bring women here.”
I gazed at that bed that looked like absolute heaven. “So you’re saying it’s never happened in here?”
He looked at the bed, too. “You’re the first woman aside from my mother who has ever even seen my bed.”
I looked at him with wide eyes. “Seriously?”
His eyes moved slowly from the bed to meet mine. “Seriously.”
Well.
I swallowed loudly.
“Why?” I squeaked.
“Why what?”
“Why hasn’t a woman seen this before?”
“I told you. I don’t bring women here. I’m not saying that I haven’t had my fun, but I go where the fun is. You feel me?”
Oh, I certainly wanted to feel him.
I nodded.
He broke the awkwardness by walking toward the bathroom. Again, I swore I saw him readjust himself in his pants, and he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.
“Here’s the master bathroom,” he said, and I followed him into another impressive room. This one had countertops that matched the travertine on the floor, a snail shower, and a huge soaker tub that I could spend days in.
The tour ended in one of the guest rooms, the one closest to the master bedroom. “This will be your room tonight,” he said. The queen bed looked comfortable, and I saw more wooden furniture in this room. It wasn’t much of a stretch to assume he’d created all of the pieces himself. He really was talented.
“Perfect,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Let’s hang on the couch for awhile. Let me just change out of my Central shirt. What do you want to sleep in?” he asked, gesturing to my clothes, and I suddenly remembered that this hadn’t been a planned sleepover and all I had with me was my purse and the clothes on my back.
I shivered, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was cold or if it was because I was standing in Jesse Drake’s house.
“Pajama pants are fine, and a t-shirt. Long-sleeved if you’ve got one.”
“Coming right up,” he said with a smile.
We walked together to the kitchen, and I waited there while he went and grabbed my requested clothes for me.
He came back a moment later, still in his jeans and school polo shirt, and handed me the clothes. “Thanks,” I said.
“Go change and I’ll meet you back here.”
I followed his directions, and I took my time. I went into the bathroom and inspected my face. The four drinks I had consumed had left me somewhat flushed, but, then again, it could have just been because I was in Jesse’s house. Even though we were apparently getting ready for bed, I freshened my make-up. If I was going to spend time in Jesse’s house, he deserved for me to look my best.
I changed into the navy blue pajama pants and the t-shirt he had given me that were both far too large for me. I breathed in as I pulled the shirt over my head, and it smelled like Jesse. I took a moment to savor his manly and piney and Christmasy scent. I was wrapped up in his scent as I wrapped my arms around myself in a giddy little hug.
I took a deep breath and headed out to the kitchen. I found him on his couch, his feet propped up on his coffee table. I realized I’d never seen his bare feet before. I wasn’t a foot person by any stretch of the imagination, but his feet were damn near perfect. My eyes traveled up his firm, well-shaped calves to see he was dressed in black mesh basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. I paused for a moment to admire the view. He had opened another beer, and he held the bottle in the air when he spotted me. “Can I get you anything?” he asked with that saucy grin of his. I swore I saw his eyes heat when he gazed at me in his clothes, but I figured it was just me hoping.
I forced myself to stop staring. “I’d love some water,” I said, knowing more alcohol was a terrible idea.
“Help yourself,” he said. “Bottles are in the fridge.”
I opened the massive (and somewhat intimidating) refrigerator and saw that his OCD neatness extended to the inside of his fridge. Every bottle and every can had the label facing me, and the shelves were stocked full with every type of soda, beer, and wine that I could imagine. There was even a variety of water: regular old Evian bottles, Vitamin Water, Sobe Lifewater.
I helped myself to a Sobe and headed over to the couch, surveying the huge sectional and debating which cushion to sit on. Sitting too close to him would be too forward, but I wanted to be close to him. He made my decision for me when he patted the cushion next to him. I sat, and he leaned in closer so our shoulders were touching. He grabbed a blanket that was nestled beside him and handed me one side. We unfolded it and spread it out over our legs.