36
LEVI
My stomach twisted like a tornado while I perched on the edge of the couch, hands clenched around a box of Milk Duds to keep my fingers from swiping at the imaginary ants skittering across my skin. My knee bounced nonstop.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
I gulped and shook my head at Zeke’s mom, knowing I wouldn’t even keep water down—and Zeke stepped around her into the living room, pulling up short at the sight of me.
Dark gray sweatpants hung low enough on his hips that the luscious V of muscle flooded my mouth with drool. I dragged my gaze upward.
No shirt covered golden skin and rippling muscle that seemed to shiver beneath my stare.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
Lips parted.
And those blue eyes went dark, widening as our gazes clashed.
“Ooooookay.” Mrs. Sipe drew out
