I have a slight buzz though not enough that it’s impairing my judgment.

“You want me to stay.” Rex repeats. “Why?”

Not for a tour of my tiny abode, I almost tell him out loud. “I like your company.”

“You do?” He’s grinning, not bothering to hide it, that goofy smile of his lighting up the entire damn kitchen. Bites down on his lower lip like I do when I’m trying to fight a smile—except he fails miserably.

He’s so adorkable.

“What do you like about my company?”

I raise my eyes and look at him, standing in my teeny, tiny kitchen, his blue button down shirt emphasizing the lingering tan he must have gotten this summer, top two white buttons undone.

“What do I like about your company?”

“Yeah.” He crosses his arms, leaning his hip against the countertop. “What do you like about me.”

“I didn’t realize there would be homework,” I joke, trying to make light of the fact that I doubt I could manufacture a list for him. I don’t do well under pressure.

Rex pretends to study his cuticles. “Just one thing then.”

I shift on the balls of my feet, having removed my shoes, and rub my lips together, as if I’ve just applied lip balm.

“I like how you…” Nervously, I pull the hair tie securing my ponytail, and eliminate it from my hair altogether, letting it fall loose around my shoulders. “You’re…”

Rex laughs at my hedging. “Wow. I’m that amazing, huh? Before you said I was cute and adorable.”

“You are! I’m thinking, give me a second—I can’t focus when you put me on the spot like this.”

I’ve always been a terrible student. I would freak out when the teacher called me to the blackboard to work out a math equation in front of the entire class.

Rex waits patiently as I rack my brain. In my head, I come up with the following:

I like how he says my name.

I love how he listens to everything I say.

I like how he cared enough to meet me out, even when I tried to bail on him. Me. A complete stranger—he was going to help me.

I like how his eyes sparkle, and his big smile, and the goofy little cleft in his chin.

He loves his niece that he’s not blood related to and treats her like family. Which means he’s probably going to be an amazing father, and …..

Father? Kids? What the hell am I doing? Letting my mind go there?! I’m not going to marry the guy—I’m not even dating him!

I am, however, thinking about what his body looks like naked.

Shame on me…

“What’s that look?” His voice interrupts my musing.

“What look?” I feign ignorance—I know exactly what he’s talking about because I’m fairly certain I was just eyeing him up like a piece of meat.

Oops.

Only, he doesn’t explain what he means, and neither do I. Instead, he stands straight, righting himself and moving to a spot next to the table.

“Well. For real, I should get going.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re just standing here—it’s weird.”

Oh god, it is weird.

“But so are you,” he laughs.

Shit, he’s right about that, too. I am weird. If I had a dollar for every person that’s told me so, I’d be rich.

“Gee thanks.”

“Don’t take it personally. It’s charming.”

Charming. No one has ever called me that a day in my life. It sounds like a compliment and I take a second to bask in it, searching my brain for the definition. Charming: Adjective. Pleasant or delightful, giving satisfaction.

It doesn’t describe me, but I’ll take it.

“You think I’m charming?”

Rex shrugs. “Sure.”

“Sure? You just said—”

“—That your weirdness was charming. Calm down, don’t get all pissy. I still think you’re cute, even if you’re a temperamental little thing.”

“Just keep doling out the compliments,” I droll, dryly.

“I’m trying,” he laughs that laugh; the one that makes my spine tingle. He’s teasing me and I like it, even if it’s at my expense, it’s not mean spirited. I might be giving him a look, but he’s watching me in some kind of way…

He moves toward the door.

“Wait.” I set my hand on his arm; his forearm. He flexes, and for a thinner guy, I’m surprised to find that it’s quite muscular, the tendons straining under my fingers.

It’s so ridiculous that I can’t express how I feel. I’m old enough that I should be able to say, “I want you to stay, and maybe spend the night, and sleep in my bed, and let me explore with you…”

Let me explore how I feel about you.

“Excuse me?” He sputters.

“Did I say that last part out loud?” I cringe; dear lord, I actually cringe, teeth clenched, good and properly embarrassed.

“You just said, let me explore how I feel about you.” Rex whispers, “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Um… Does it?”

“Hannah. Say what you mean and mean what you say.” He’s frustrated, but patient, running one of his large hands over his head and down the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, Rex—you knew I wasn’t any good at this. I’m sorry, I wish I wasn’t like this but it’s just how I am. I’m a basket case half the time. An unorganized mess. Thank god for Skylar, my roommate, because otherwise I would be a total—”

“—Hannah, are you drunk?” He cocks his head and studies me, moving closer.

“No, are you?”

I’m not, but I suddenly wish I was so I’d have an excuse for my behavior. My erratic speeches and dumb comments that make no sense. The nerves. The indecision. The hot and cold. I’m not desperate—I had sex a few months ago with some random guy after being out at the bars.

So why do I want it from Rex so bad?

Because it will feel good. It will feel right.

I know it with everything I have, standing here in the dim light of my cozy little house, watching him watch me.

Slowly, Rex raises his hands between our bodies and places them on my cheeks; cups my jaw, bracing my face. Strokes his thumbs over the corners of my lips, studying me.

He might not be intoxicated, but his pupils are dilated—a sure sign that he’s turned on. Aroused.

Whatever you want to call it, he’s watching me like I’m the most beautiful, fascinating thing his hands have ever been blessed to touch.

This isn’t any drops of alcohol; it’s him and me.

“I learned a long time ago that just because someone lets you touch them doesn’t mean they’re interested.” He murmurs.

I practically purr into the hands caressing my skin. “What do you mean?”

“I’m asking if you’re okay with me touching you like this?”

My head gives a small nod. “Of course I’m okay with it.”

More than okay with it, actually—I want him touching me. Want his hands all over and I don’t want him asking for permission every two seconds.

I just want…

I want him to take charge and put his mouth on mine before I lose my mind.