Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Elizabeth

The now-familiar sound of Austin’s alarm is followed by his gruff morning voice behind me streaming a few choice obscenities. We didn’t even make it to bed this time, falling asleep huddled together on the couch. Austin moves to get up and I almost fall off.

“Shit, sorry.” He catches me right before I faceplant on the floor. Thank God for those athletic reflexes. He manages to climb over me and gets up. He leaves me the blanket we were sharing, which means he’s now standing in my living room completely naked.

This is a view I could get used to.

I gawk at him, my tired brain too busy taking in the sight of his glorious body to bother telling me to keep my mouth closed.

Austin catches my flagrant ogling and chastises me with, “My eyes are up here, Goose.”

Way to go, Elizabeth!

I pull the blanket up over my head to hide my complete embarrassment. Austin laughs.

“No more sleeping on the couch. I think my neck is going to be jacked all day,” he says with a yawn and a stretch.

“Sorry,” I call out from my sanctuary under the blanket.

“For eye-fucking me? You’re hardly the first.”

I shoot up on the couch and shout, “I was not.”

Austin dips his eyes to my chest, which I exposed in my rush to confront him.

Real smooth.

I pull the blanket up to cover myself. “My eyes are up here, Maverick.” I use his own words against him.

He drags his eyes up to mine with a wink and smirk.

“I know.”

My insides melt.

“I meant I’m sorry your neck hurts.” I look away and try to ignore the effect his heated gaze has on me.

“Not your fault. I should’ve figured we were going to fall asleep again. It’s getting to be a naughty habit.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me as he pulls on his boxers and jeans. I search the floor for my clothes and realize they’re on the other side of the apartment. Guess this blanket is it for now.

“I should pack a toothbrush.”

I hop off the couch, making sure to keep the blanket wrapped around me tightly this time.

“Follow me,” I demand, walking toward the bathroom.

“I’d love to, but I really don’t have the time,” he objects but follows me anyway.

My cheeks flush at his insinuation. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” I scold him with playful smack on his chest.

“I can take my mind out of the gutter, but good luck getting the gutter out of my mind.”

I roll my eyes at him and skulk off into the bathroom. “Here.” I slap a brand-new toothbrush into his chest.

“Oh, Goose. For me? You shouldn’t have,” he teases.

“A girl tries to be hospitable,” I quip with a shrug and a nervous smile.