Presently Perfect (Perfect #3) (19 page)

I dropped my hand and said, “You
do
have me. Every part of me. You always have. You just don’t want me.”

Tweet’s head snapped in my direction. Her body became rigid, her jaw locked, and her lips flattened into a straight line. When I saw the intensity of her glare I knew I had hit a nerve with my last words. She took a slight step forward, placed her hands on my chest, and shoved me back, away from the door. The next thing I knew, the door flew open and she took off, running like always.

Going after Tweet wouldn’t have accomplished anything at that point. She was terrified. I could see it in her expression. She overanalyzed things, playing out every possible scenario in an attempt to control her feelings and reactions. Tonight when she saw me step out of that room, that control was stripped from her. Instead of letting go of her heart and head on her own terms, all the emotions came crashing down, and the sheer force was devastating.

I walked downstairs. The party had quieted down with most people either passed out or making out. Even though it wasn’t the time or place to talk, I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave Tweet here with the Smurffucker. I looked around the room but there was no sign of them. I didn’t know if that was good or bad. I was glad to see she wasn’t part of one of the couples hooking up, not that I thought she would do that on a first date. I checked out the back deck. Still no Tweet. I walked out to the front porch. Scanning the cars, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Brad’s car still here.

Coming back inside, I looked up and witnessed the Smurffucker dragging Tweet by the hand, up the stairs. By the time they made it to the second step, my hand was wrapped around Tweet’s wrist stopping them. She stumbled back against the banister. The strong smell of tequila hit me in the face. Her glassy eyes looked at me in confusion for a few seconds, and then finally registered that it was me.

“Noah!” she slurred, a huge smile plastered across her face.

I was standing one step below Tweet when she broke free from Brad, twisting her body in my direction. I let go of her other wrist and caught her as she fell toward me. Her arms wrapped around my neck as I grabbed hold of her hips, trying to keep her steady.

Tweet’s head tilted back as she clung to me. “Look, Brad! It’s Noah! My Noah!” Her voice was ear-splittingly high. “He’s so sweet and sexy. He’s swexy. He licked my thigh under my parents’ dinner table.” She straightened her head, bringing her forehead to rest on mine. The look in her eyes had turned smoldering, her voice husky when she asked, “You remember licking me, Noah?”

We had a huge fight just a little over an hour ago and now she was completely wasted; her clothes were rumpled, she had pieces of sand stuck to her face, her hair was a tangled windblown mess, and she reeked of tequila and the ocean. But she was still the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes on. My expression teetered from snarling at the Smurffucker to wanting to smile at Tweet.

God, even drunk she’s adorable.

I was either the biggest idiot known to mankind or so beyond in love with this girl that all my common sense and self-preservation got obliterated when I was around her. My heart was pounding against my chest while the temperature in the room soared. The tension in my muscles was beginning to disappear and I was getting lost in teal eyes. I needed some distance.

My hands moved to Tweet’s shoulders and I helped her stand upright. “I’m taking you home.”

“But Brad was going to do some
things
to me on purpose. I don’t know what, but I’m having fun. Hey! You want to come with us?” she asked, hooking her arm around mine.

My gaze zeroed in on Brad glaring down at me, his jaw clenched tight. My priority was to get Tweet home safe. I’d deal with this asshole later.

I snaked my arm around Tweet’s waist and led her down the steps. She was abruptly yanked away from me. I whipped around and saw Brad clutching Tweet’s arm.

“Haven’t you done enough to her tonight? She’s having a great time with me, so get your fucking hands off of her,” he growled.

Tweet smiled up at him, then turned to me, and said, “I really am having fun. He’s not a Smurffucker at all.”

Glaring at Brad, I grabbed Tweet’s hand, and led her toward the front door. We had taken two steps when I felt her being tugged away from me again. I let go of her hand, walked over to Brad, and punched him in the stomach. His hand fell from Tweet as he doubled over and dropped to the floor. I picked up Tweet, tossed her over my shoulder, and finally headed out uninterrupted.

Just before reaching the front door Tweet grabbed the waistband of my pants, lifting herself up slightly, and yelled, “Bye-bye, Brad! Thanks! Maybe you can lick my thigh next time! Bye-bye!”

Once we were at my truck, I lowered Tweet off my shoulder until her feet touched the ground. Her eyes struggled to stay opened, losing the battle, right before she passed out. I wrapped my arm around her waist, holding her body against mine while I unlocked my truck. I placed her in the seat and leaned over to fasten her in. The click of the seatbelt caused her to stir. Reaching my hand up to her face, my thumb brushed away the dusting of sand that clung to her cheek.

Her eyes stayed closed as a lazy grin slowly appeared across her pink lips. “Mmmm…,” she moaned. “Noah.” She sounded breathy.

“Yeah, Tweet?”

“You’re my knight in plastic armor.”

A slight chuckle escaped me as I remembered our Halloween costumes from when we were six years old.

“You always take care of me and make sure I have candy,” she said, her voice trailing off.

I stared at her for several seconds, simply enjoying the view. As I inched away from her, she shifted in the seat.

Another slight moan flowed over her lips, and she whispered, “I love you Noah.”

I knew she wouldn’t remember saying those words to me tomorrow, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that counted was that for the first time she let go of her heart, her head, and allowed herself to love me. There was nothing better than when the girl of your dreams made all of yours come true.

“Noah, your room is like a ride at Disney World,” she said, half moaning and half whining her words.

Tweet was fast asleep when I pulled into my driveway. Once I had the door to the passenger side opened and the seatbelt unfastened, her eyes fluttered in an attempt to wake up. She giggled when I scooped her up, lifting her from the truck. Her arms tightened around my neck as she nuzzled up against me, her lips touching the spot right below my ear. Our parents were spending the weekend at Myrtle Beach on their annual getaway. Tweet was in no condition to be by herself and I knew in the morning she’d really be feeling the effects of tonight, so I brought her back to my house to take care of her.

I carried her to my room, sat her on the bed, and then went to my dresser to grab a pair of boxers and a T-shirt for her to change in to. I turned around to find Tweet sprawled out on her back across my bed.

When I walked over to the bed, she lifted her head slightly. One eye squinted open, spotting the clothes in my hand.

Her nose and lips squished up in confusion. “You wear plaid underwear?”

Before I had a chance to answer, her head fell back onto the bed with closed eyes and a relaxed face.

“Sometimes. Why?”

“I never dreamed of you wearing plaid boxers.”

The idea of her dreaming of me in my underwear made me grin.

I sat the boxers and shirt beside her and said, “Change into this. I’m going to get you some water and aspirin.”

“What am I going to do about my parents? I can’t go home like this.” Panic flowed through each word.

“Both our parents went to Myrtle Beach this weekend. Remember?”

I took two steps toward the door before her plea stopped me.

“Noah! I can’t sit up. Help me!”

Tweet was in the same position, lying on her back, except now with both arms pointing straight up toward the ceiling. My grin grew wider, I shook my head, and walked back to her. When our hands connected, I pulled her into a sitting position. Her body swayed and her head wobbled from the movement.

Tweet’s fingers fumbled, trying to unbutton her jeans, never quite making contact with the actual button.

After several failed attempts, she looked up at me, batted her lashes a couple of times, and said, “I seem to be having difficulty locating the actual boot-ton and zip-pah.”

She flashed me a lopsided smirk and giggled.

I hesitated for several seconds, staring at the button. My pulse rate and temperature were rising at warped speed with just the thought of helping Tweet undress.

This was not a good idea.

I knelt down in front of her, tore my gaze from the button, and whispered, “I’ll help you.”

First, I removed her flip-flops and carefully placed them to the side. I then decided they were too close and a tripping hazard.

What if Tweet had to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom? She could trip, fall, and hit her head. If she hurt herself I’d have to rush her to the hospital and call her parents. If I called her parents, I’d have to explain to Mr. Kelly why his youngest daughter was in my bedroom, wearing next to nothing…

I slid the shoes farther away.

My chest expanded and contracted as I took in a deep breath before bringing my hands up to the top of her jeans. As I freed the button and pulled down the zipper, the tips of my fingers grazed the skin just below her navel. A shiver ran through both of us. I couldn’t tell where it originated from, me or Tweet. All I knew was a whole lot of shivering was happening. Our eyes locked and we both downed a supersized gulp of air.

“I’ll go get your water and aspirin while you change.”

I got up and made a second attempt at leaving for water and aspirin. The bed squeaking caused me to spin around just in time to see Tweet flop back down on it.

“Noah, I can’t stand up. I need you,” she hollered.

I rushed over. “Tweet, are you okay?”

She looked at me with an adorable pouty expression. “Yes, but I
need
you. Don’t leave me.”

I knelt back down in front of her and said, “I won’t ever leave you. Hold on to me.”

I slid my hands on top of hers, lifting them to my shoulders. As Tweet pushed off the bed to stand, her chest brushed past my face. The breath caught in my throat. Through her thin shirt, Tweet’s nipples strained against the material. I turned my head to the side in order to end the staring contest between me and the perky
just my size
awesome rack in front of me.
I huffed out a breath and tried to focus on the task at hand.

Placing my hands on either side of her hips, I carefully hooked my fingers around the top of her jeans, making sure not to touch skin or the purple lace panties that were peeking out from behind the zipper. As the jeans slid down her thighs my gaze darted away. I struggled to keep it focused on something… anything—the floor, the lamp, my baseball trophies. Nothing held my interest quite as much as those purple lace panties above those smooth naked thighs. It was like they had this indestructible superpower and my eighteen-year-old male eyes were no match. I helped her sit back down and pulled the jeans off the rest of the way.

Tweet stood as I held the boxers out at arm’s length for her to step into, while I angled my head back as far away as possible from her body. She slipped one leg in followed by the other. My gaze drifted up, catching a side view of her. I followed the purple lace wrapped around her hip and over her curves. A hint of her ass where it met the back of her upper thigh
peeked out. I got lightheaded and blew out spurts of air like I had just run a hundred- yard dash. And of course my dick was moving around like a cat trapped in a paper bag.

I waited for her to pull the shorts up, wondering why it was taking her so long. Then I realized she could barely stand, much less bend down. Tweet’s fingers dug into my shoulders as I slid the boxers up her leg.
My thoughts ping-ponged between placing my hands on her hips or her hands.

I really wanted to touch those hips.

I held Tweet’s hands while she slowly sank back down on the bed.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to handle the rest on your own. I’ll go get the water and aspirin,” I said, my voice husky.

Out of nowhere Tweet ripped her shirt off and tossed it to the side.

Holy shit! The bra matched the panties.

A magnetic force slowly pulled my eyeballs out of their sockets. I had seen Beth’s tits and Brittani completely naked, but neither of them held a candle to Tweet with messy hair, wearing my plaid boxers, and a purple lacy bra.

My foggy thoughts cleared when I heard her ask, “What are you looking at? I never struck you as a lacy bra kind of girl?”

She sucked in her lower lip and then released it slowly.

“I have a black one, a red one, a white one, a pink one, a yellow one, and of course, you see the purple one.” Her gaze bounced from one boob to the next. “They
all
have matching lace panties too.”

The corners of her lips slowly crept up to form the hottest smile that had ever been aimed at me.