Page 41 of Learn Your Lesson

Chloe wiggled her shoulders at me, and I blinked, hoping my neck wasn’t as red as it felt.

“That was an easy one,” I managed to grind out.

“The easy ones still rack up the cash,” she combatted. “Besides, I haven’t heard you answer any.”

“I’m not in the habit of talking out loud when I’m alone.”

“That’s a shame,” she said. “I get some of my best ideas that way.”

She pulled her cross-stitch into her lap then, picking up where she’d left off on what appeared to be a mushroom design.

I tried to focus on the TV and not on where her bare legs were just a few feet away from me, or how it was perfectly obvious that she didn’t have a bra on under that thin t-shirt, but very much failed.

My eyes kept sliding to her where her legs were crossed, to the delicate ankle that bounced a bit as she stitched, to where her thighs hugged each other in a tight seam that I wanted desperately to slide my hand between just to see how warm that nook was.

And if I let my gaze travel up enough, I’d have to fight back a groan at the sight of her nipples through her shirt, at the plump swells of her breasts.

Fuck,I wanted to touch her, to feel the weight of her in my hands, to hear her moan when I bent and took one of those pebbled buds into my mouth.

“I would not have taken you for a game show man,” Chloe said when a commercial came on.

I internally cursed and ripped my gaze to the screen, willing myself to calm down before my hard-on became too much to hide.

When I started fast-forwarding through the commercials, Chloe laughed. “Wow. A verydedicatedgame show man. You recorded this?”

I was thankful for the conversation. It helped me release my focus on her goddamn hypnotizing body — even if only marginally.

“I used to watchJeopardywith my dad every night,” I explained. “Mom was more of aWheel of Fortunefan.But Dad, he lovedJeopardy. He was smart enough to be a contestant, too. There was hardly ever a category that he didn’t know most of the answers to.”

Chloe smiled, laying her cross-stitch in her lap for a moment. “I love that. I bet it was fun for you, to have that time with your dad.”

“It was,” I agreed, frowning a bit because I hadn’t realized how much that small bit of time really had meant to me when I was younger. “I think it became even bigger after Mom passed. Dad was…” I swallowed. “Well, it was hard for him. Understandably. And I think sometimes he just didn’t know what to do with me.”

She nodded, her eyes on her lap before they flitted back to the screen. We watched the next round play out before I was fast-forwarding through another commercial break.

“I grew up with my mom and grandma,” she confessed, something of a smile on her goopy face. “I don’t think they knew what to do with me much, either. Other than warn me that men were an evil species, and I should stay far, far away from them.”

I arched a brow. “A bit harsh.”

“After their experiences, it was an absolute, irrefutable truth to them.”

“And you?”

She laughed, picking up her cross-stitch again. “Let’s just say I have had little evidence to prove otherwise, at least thus far.”

“Ouch,” I said, covering my chest like I was wounded by the words. Truth be told, I was a bit. “Am I so bad?”

“You don’t count,” she said, waving me off.

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re clearly a rarity. One of the nice ones.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever called menice.”

“Just because you’re grumpy doesn’t mean you’re an asshole,” she said, giving me a look like she saw right through me. “But you also don’t count because you’re not in the dateable sphere.”

Now I reallywasoffended — for reasons unbeknownst to me because dating was the furthest thing from my mind. I didn’t want a girlfriend. I didn’t even want afriend.I knew the danger that came with both of those territories. I liked to be firmly in thefuck and fleecategory — and even that was rare.