Blissful Valentine: A Novella by Amy L. Gale Page B

loose snow from his black boots. “Want me to take them off?”
    Lava flows through my veins. “Leave them in here so they don’t freeze. Unless you want high-heeled boots to go with your pink hoodie on the walk back tomorrow. ” I toss the keys on the counter.
    “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He snickers and sets his boots on the throw carpet in the kitchen, closing the door behind him.
    I open the fridge. “Big decision. Sweet girly wine, diet soda, or pink champagne. ” I turn toward Dean.
    “Pink’s my color.” He pulls the hoodie over his head, catching his T-shirt.
    My eyes lock onto the hem of the shirt on its journey over the treacherous terrain of Dean’s abs. Sweet Jesus he’s got an eight-pack. My lips part and heat floods through my body, from my head to my toes. My nerve endings stir and tingle. I follow the fabric over his pecs. He’s so much more impressive than I gave him credit for. Who knew he was hiding a body that should be chiseled in stone underneath all those clothes? My hand releases the refrigerator door and it slams shut.
    My eyes glue to the fabric as he pulls it down over each peak and valley slowly. My mouth falls open and I stare in awe.
    “See something you like?” He flashes a sexy half-smile and pulls his T-shirt down.
    Caught red-handed. Warmth spreads across my cheeks like wildfire. I take out the bottle of pink champagne and hold it by its neck. “Making sure there’s no weapons on you.”
    He holds out his hands. “Maybe you should frisk me.”
    Oh God. There’s no way on earth I can act like one of those flirty frat-party girls, especially completely sober. Sure, I’ve done it a hundred times drunk but that was another time, another me. I bite at my lip. Please don’t let me ruin this.
    I shake my head and take two clear plastic cups from the stack on the countertop. “Follow me, if you know what’s good for you.” I wink and walk into the hallway.
    Okay, maybe not the best way to get him into my bedroom but I’ve got to be realistic. With my luck, Lexie will wake up for a glass of water in her underwear and freak if she sees Dean. It’s not like I can warn her. She’s passed out and three sheets to the wind.
    My muscles quiver and my stomach rolls. I step onto the soft tan carpet of my bedroom. Dean follows closely behind. I set the champagne and cups down on my desk and wipe my palms against my jeans.
    He looks around at my collage of pictures with a few of my medals earned from dance competitions hanging around the frames. He walks toward them and holds the metal medallion. “You must be good.”
    Lifting my shoulders, I shrug , “I was okay.”
    “Was?”
    I pop open the champagne and pour us two glasses, handing one to Dean. I take a sip, the bubbles tickling my nose. “I’m done competing.”
    He scrunches his eyebrows and opens his mouth, but quickly closes it.
    No way in hell am I getting into this conversation now. I’ve got to move things in a different direction. I take his free hand and guide him to my bed. I sit on the edge and scooch up. He plops down next to me, sloshing champagne to the rim of his cup.
    “I never said thank you for covering for me and Lexie.” I sip my champagne and fidget.
    “All in a day’s work.” He sips his champagne and grimaces. “Ugh, it’s like battery acid mixed with sugar. Girls like this crap?”
    I let out a slight chuckle. “Want something else? ” I slug the rest of my champagne and toss my cup in the trashcan.
    He shakes his head and sets his cup down on the nightstand. “The slammer sobered me up.”
    My lips press into a white slash and I fold my arms across my chest. “What the hell were you thinking?”
    “Huh?” He crinkles his eyebrows and tilts his head.
    “You’re unbelievable.” My head shakes while my eyes roll. “What if they were real cops?”
    He shrugs. “Then I guess I’d be screwed.”
    That’s it? “Don’t you care about the future?”
    His body tenses and he glares