All Over You (Unforgettable You, Book 1.5) (15 page)

Scott’s brows knit as he slowly shakes his head in bemusement. “What the hell does one have to do with the other?”

“
They’re both winter sports.” I say it like my explanation is completely logical and not the nonsensical hogwash I know it is. “Plus didn’t you tell me your father tried to teach you to ski?”

“
Tried is the operative word.”

At least you have a father who tried.
The errant thought runs through my mind before I can stop it. Worse, something must have showed on my face because Scott’s expression immediately goes soft. His next question confirms it.

“
Is your dad still trying to get you to see him?”

Talk about killing a mood.

I’ve rarely talked to Scott about John. As in solar eclipse rare. All I told him is that John’s never seen me because he left my mom before I was born and that he’s never given her any child support. I’m not sure the change in status of the last part is worth mentioning now.

“
I told you, he’s not my dad.”

Inwardly, I’m pretty sure Scott is rolling his eyes, but outwardly, his expression remains the same. He looks concerned. “Humor me. When I say your dad, I mean in the biological sense, okay?”

I grumble something he must take as my agreement even though it’s intelligible even to me.

“
Yes he’s still trying. And no I haven’t seen him nor am I going to.”

To my reply, he gives me this look, which confirms what I’d thought; he heard me on the phone with my mom last night.

“
Don’t look at me like that.” I try not to snap and end up sounding hopelessly forlorn. I don’t need his pity. I don’t need anyone’s pity.

“
How am I looking at you?” he asks while staring at me like I’m a poor, injured bird.

“
Like you think I have daddy issues. Well I don’t.” Okay, so now I definitely sound defensive, which is not how I want to come across. “Contrary to popular psychobabble belief, you can’t miss what you never had. Like you just said, John is my father strictly in a biological sense. He’s never been a part of my life and that’s exactly the way things are going to stay.”

Scott makes this sound in his throat and if possible, his expression goes even softer. I lock my jaw and pivot so quickly away from him, the momentum of the movement nearly lands me on my ass. Arms flailing, I somehow manage to drive both poles deep into the packed snow to gain enough leverage to keep me upright.

“
Hey, are you mad at me?” he asks softly, his concern even more evident.

I give a furious shake of my head, more angry at my reaction to his question than anything else. “No, he’s just not someone I like to talk about. You know that. I don’t care if he wants to pay for my graduate degree, my wedding or buy me a brand new house, it’s not going to make me like him. I’ve done fine without him for nineteen years, so I can sure as hell do without him for nineteen more.”

The next thing I know, Scott is standing next to me with only inches between us. He’s removed his skis and propped his poles up against the tree. In the ensuing silence, he looks at me—actually it’s more like he studies me—which is downright unnerving.

After too long under his narrowed scrutiny, I finally snap, “What?”

“
You know what I think?”

I can tell by his too calm and patient tone it’s not really a question. He’s going to tell me whether I want to know or not.

Resigned, I exhale audibly. “No, but you’re going to tell me anyway.”

He lowers his head until his warm breath mists the shell of my ear. “I think you’re grumpy because I didn’t have sex with you this morning.”

An outraged breath catches in my throat as my head jerks up to stare into his hooded green eyes where heat and the cocky assuredness that had first attracted me to him glint down at me.

He knows.

“
You are such a—such a—” For the life of me, I’m too mortified and ticked off to think much less come up with just the right word to skewer him.

He gives a low, rumbling laugh and raises his eyebrows suggestively. “If you want to change the rules, all you have to do is say the word. Right now, though, I’m playing by
your
rules. You said no kissing in the bedroom and I saved it for the bathroom. I even asked permission first.”

“
What are you talking about? Are you forgetting we nearly had sex on the counter?” I hiss, seething.

“
But we didn’t. Anyway, I wasn’t going to let it go that far. You see, I’m a man of my word so don’t think that if you wiggle your ass enough at me, I’m going to break my promise. I agreed we weren’t going to have sex and we won’t. Well, not unless you ask me nicely.”

Wiggle my ass?

I’m finding it so hard to breathe, I think I’m in serious danger of hyperventilating. That and the fact that the temperature outside is cold enough to make ice but my face is throwing off enough heat to melt an iceberg. At least that’s how it feels.

I hadn’t been wiggling my ass at him. At most last night had been a weak attempt at seduction. Hardly worth mentioning. This morning is when I’d officially put the moves on him. But that stubborn, cocky
jerk
hadn’t taken me up on my—apparently—not-so-subtle invitation. Worse yet, he’s now throwing the failed attempt back in my face.

That’s chivalry for you.

“
You are— You know your ego— You know what—? Never mind. I’m not having this conversation with you.” I hate that I sputter like a six-year-old when I’m angry. And totally humiliated. There’s nothing worse than when someone calls you on your shit. There must be some unwritten rule out there that says boyfriends trying to get back into their girlfriends good graces—aka panties—are not supposed to do that.

And to think I planned on having sex with him tonight. Hell no, not now. He had his chance and he blew it. If he wants to have sex with me, he’s the one who’ll have to come to me crawling.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

S
COTT

By the time we get back to the house late that night, everyone’s wiped. We skied until around five and then drove into the city to take in some of the sights and eat dinner.

We ate at a small bistro in downtown Montreal, where conversation flowed. From a casual observer’s standpoint, everyone appeared to be having a good time. If they looked closer they would’ve noticed my girlfriend was giving me the silent treatment and that April and Troy barely spoke to one another.

But I’d rather have Becca mad at me than down in the dumps because of her father. Yeah, I know she says she doesn’t give a hoot about the guy, but in the past whenever the subject of him ever came up, her mood went south fast. Unless something else pissed her off.

It was my fault.
At least he tried.
I’d taken her comment as an opening and had rushed in headfirst without looking. Well that’s another lesson learned.
She’s not ready to talk about her dad so don’t push her.

On the positive side, it’s time for bed. With Becca. So far I haven’t been relegated to the couch, which means I’m not completely in the doghouse.

I head up the stairs, leaving Becca and Olivia in the kitchen putting away leftovers from dinner. Zach is locking up.

As I pass the bathroom on the way to the bedroom, I see April on her way out.

“I hope you didn’t use up all the hot water,” I say lightly.

“A cold shower will do you good,” she says, smiling as she scrunches up her nose at me.

In the room, I quickly check my cell for messages. One missed call from home. I’ll call back later. Then I grab a towel from the closet and retrieve my pjs from where Becca placed them folded neatly under the pillow. I’m about to head out the door and stake my claim on the bathroom when I see April and Troy standing in the middle of the hall.

I don’t want to interrupt what appears to be a pretty serious conversation, so I quietly push the door until it’s closed enough for me to remain out of sight but open enough that I can see out.

“Um, you might want to do that up,” Troy says, his hand motioning to her open robe.

April looks down at herself and then back up at him.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” she asks, her tone defensive and her eyes narrowed.

Troy shifts on his feet, his shoulders hunched and his hands thrust into the front pockets of his jeans. I can’t see his face because he has his back to me.

“In case you forgot, you’re also sharing this house with three guys.”

What, like he’s afraid Zach and I are going to go all crazy if we get a peek of April braless in a tank top or get a glimpse of her bare stomach in her yoga-style pajama pants? The guy really needs to give us some credit. We’re not a bunch of horndogs when it comes to her. Hello, we’re here with our girlfriends.

“They have girlfriends,” she practically hisses. “Who happen to be my best friends. What do you think they’re going to do if they see me in this?”

“What about me?”

“You? You’ve seen it all and already had your fill so it should be no sweat off your back.” With that, she brushes by him and seconds later, I hear a door slam.

Troy turns in the direction she just went, his expression serious and hard to read. Seconds later, he walks to his room. I barely hear the door when he pushes it closed.

I was right. There is something going on there. And by the sounds of it—

You’ve seen it all and had your fill.

—they
are
or
were
more than friends.

“Why are you just standing there?”

I nearly jump at the sound of Becca’s voice. I didn’t even hear her coming up the stairs.

Pulling the door wide open, I step into the hall and hope I don’t look as guilty as I feel. Although I don’t think what I was doing would technically be considered eavesdropping. It’s not like I snuck upstairs with the purpose of listening in on their conversation. And how personal could it have been if they’d been having it out in the hall?

“I’m about to take a shower unless you wanna go first,” I offer, ignoring her question.

The way she narrows her eyes and tips her head to the side makes it clear that my evasion didn’t escape her. But when it becomes clear she won’t be getting anything else out of me, she says, “No, you go first. Just make sure you don’t use up all the hot water.” With that, she enters the bedroom.

* * *

Thirty minutes later Becca returns to the room wearing the same red-lipped, pink pajamas she’d worn last night. I wouldn’t call them sexy, covering every part of her body but her hands and feet. But it’s what I know is under all that flannel that gets me semi-hard in two seconds flat.

She barely spares me a glance as she climbs into the bed and slips under the covers beside me. I’m instantly assailed by the scent of her cocoa butter lotion, which only makes me harder.

I watch her as she tucks her hair behind her ear and then while still studiously avoiding my gaze, reaches for her iPad sitting on the nightstand.

“You reading?” My question draws her gaze to me.

“Yeah. You don’t mind do you? I’ll turn off the light,” she offers, her hand already reaching toward the lamp.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

Confusion clouds her expression and her brows pucker as her arm hangs motionless mid-air. “Excuse me? You mind me reading?”

“You’re not going to admit it, are you?”

Dropping her hand to her lap, she angles toward me.

“Admit what exactly?” I can tell by the bite in her voice that she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“That you were trying to get me to have sex with you this morning. And I think last night too.” I sound awfully cocky for a guy who’s sporting a hard-on for her that won’t quit.

On a sharp indrawn breath, her blue eyes flash me a silent warning not to say another word. Before she can lay into me, I grab her hand and tug her down beside me.

Her body goes rigid and her hands push off my chest as she tries to extricate herself from my arms circling her slender waist.

Sputtering, she cries, “Scott, what are you doing? You agreed, not in the bedroom.”

I easily manage to pin her hands above her head and trap both her legs beneath mine. “Calm down. I’m not going to kiss you. I just want to hug you,” I whisper softly in her ear.

The second she goes completely still is when I know she feels my dick against her hip.

R
EBECCA