Sean smiles down at me. “Really? And what’s that?”
“When did you order this?” One of my brows lifts as the corners of my mouth twitch into a cocky grin. Sean’s eyes dip to my cleavage, which is being thrust upward by my folded arms.
When he looks back into my eyes, he says, “When you weren’t looking.”
“You’re always looking.”
“Yes, I am. There’s a lot to look at.” Sean winks at me and my stomach dips. The man is sex on legs. Everything he does makes me melt.
I try to ignore the sensations flooding through me. “You’re changing the subject, Mr. Jones.”
“You’re very perceptive, Miss Smith.”
“So?”
He laughs and looks away, mirroring my pose. Sean’s tight black T shirt hugs his arms and when he folds them, I can see each toned curve. The compulsion to drag my tongue across his muscles and then slowly lick his toned chest fills my mind. “Smitty?”
“What?” My imaginary lick was inching closer to his waist by the time I blink and glance up at him.
“You have that look on your face—the one that means your head is filled with dirty thoughts.” He hooks his fingers in my waistband and tugs me toward him.
“My head is always filled with dirty thoughts when you’re around. You broke me.”
He kisses my cheek lightly. “I think you have that backwards. You were broken before and I fixed you.” My smile fades as I look into his eyes. Sean cups my face and asks, “What is it?”
“This seems so impossible. I just want to be with you. Is that so hard?”
Sean lowers his head, inching closer for a kiss, when there’s a bang at the door again. He releases me and gestures for me to open it. I wanted that kiss.
Crossing the room, I yank open the door and look up at the delivery guy. He’s got a huge box—huge, as in I could live in it when I get dropped from all my classes next week—tied to a hand truck. I step aside and let him bring it in. Sean slips some money into the man’s hand before he leaves. When the door closes, I race toward the box. There are no markings on it, no indication of what’s inside.
“Are you sure this is safe? What if it’s something bad?”
“It’s not. I know what it is. You can open it.”
I grin at him. It’s one of those ear-to-ear smiles, and I pat the palms of my hands together as I decide which part of the super-thick box to pull apart first. What the heck is in there? I can’t even imagine what would make him blush like that, after everything we’ve already done.
Sean pulls a knife from his waistband and slices through the tape. Well, it’s good to know what he was reaching for before. He tucks the knife back behind him before saying, “Well, open it. I want to know what you think.”
I squeal and yank at the cardboard, pulling back the sides of the box. The inside is reinforced and filled with a ton of packaging peanuts. I nearly fall into the container trying to swipe the little bits of foam away with my arm. Sean watches me silently with his arms across his chest and one hand by his lips. He’s nervous. It’s so cute, I could die.
I stop and look up at him with packaging peanuts clinging to my arms. “There is something in here, right? Or did you just send me an empty box? Because I’d be okay with that.” I’m ready to dive in when Sean laughs and steps towards me.
He grabs my waist and yanks me back. “There’s something in there. You can’t jump in the box, you lunatic.”
“I’m so playing with the box.”
Sean laughs lightly and looks over his shoulder as he reaches into the box, digging around for whatever is in there. “Kids never want the toy, only the box. Maybe I should send this back?” When he stands, he has the corner of something. It’s wrapped in opaque plastic, but it looks like the end of a couch.
Seriously? I stand there, staring, my jaw hanging open as he lifts out a backless sofa and puts it on the floor by the old one that’s covered in Amber germs. The shape of the thing is really weird and not very tall. It looks like a bench that fell out of a Salvador Dalí painting.
Sean lets out a rush of air and turns to look at me. “Well?”
“You bought me furniture?”
“Not exactly. Open it.” Sean steps away and slips his hands into his pockets. I can tell he’s super proud of this present. I try to smile, like it’s better than beans, but it’s furniture. How’s that romantic? Besides, there’s a big empty box filled with packaging peanuts and it’s totally calling my name.
I step toward the couchy thing and pull the wrapping off. When I’m done I’m looking down at a very modern piece of white furniture. It has sweeping, smooth lines that form two separate humps with a little place to sit in between. I start to smile, but try to repress my grin as I drag my fingers across the supple leather surface.