Not the Hot Chick: A BBW New Adult Serial Romance (Not the Hot Chick series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

almost fell asleep to those lovely imaginings, but the soft rustle of clothing brought her out of her reverie. She rolled to her back and found him standing, zipping up his jeans, looking down at her with a warm grin. "You were amazing, little Layla."
    Her fantasies, as insubstantial as a bubble, went poof .
    "Oh." Suddenly embarrassed by her nakedness, she reached for the quilt now bunched at the foot of the bed and yanked it up to cover herself. "Thanks." She held the coverlet to her breasts. This was a hookup. How dumb to imagine it could be anything else. "Uh, you too."
    "Thanks." He grabbed his socks from the floor and sat on the edge of the bed to pull them on. He whistled a fragment of some song it took Layla, in her daze, a moment to recognize. Then it clicked: "As Time Goes By," from Casablanca .
    Cam stood, picked up his shirt. As he put it on and fastened the buttons, he seemed to awaken to Layla's somber gaze, and his jaunty, careless attitude slipped away. He shifted his feet, cleared his throat. "Well…"
    She gave him a brave little smile. "Well."
    He stuffed his hands in his back pockets. "I'll see you at the Shamrock."
    I don't think so. But she wouldn't tell him that. No drama. That would be most uncool.
    He didn't owe her anything, nor did she owe him.
    "See you," she answered. What else was there to say?
    "Uh, don't get up," he stammered, though she'd made no move. "I can show myself out. Should I check on your friend before I go?"
    Jessi. She'd almost forgotten. Someone ought to make sure she was all right. "No, I'll go over in a little while. I've got her key, remember."
    "Oh, yeah. Right." He shifted again, then went still as their eyes met. "You're sweet, Layla. A nice girl."
    A nice girl. But not the kind of girl for someone like you.
    He didn't ask for her number, didn't say he'd give her a call. Though that saddened her some, she respected him for not making lame promises he had no intention of keeping. And by not lying, maybe that meant he respected her, too.
    He'd meant to hook up with Jessi, but ended up with Layla instead. What were his words? "You're here…I'm here…" She'd been the pinch hitter, the substitute.
    She couldn't complain. She'd had the time of her life, a hot memory to keep her warm for a long time to come. And he'd been just as into her as she was into him. But they couldn't spend all their time in bed, and in the light of day, they just didn't compute. Cam knew that, and Layla realized she had to face it too.
    She simply was not in his league.
    "Take care." His voice was soft. He hesitated a moment as though tempted to say more, then turned and left.
    Layla waited, a little numb, a little sad, until she heard the front door quietly close. Letting the bedclothes fall away, she stood and slowly picked up the garments strewn across the floor and placed them on her desk. She slipped into a short robe hanging on her bedroom door.
    The cool, silky feel of the fabric on her naked skin sent a small shiver through her. Her body was still sensitive, remembering Cam's touch. A thought came to her—not instantly, like the burst of a flash bulb, but gradually, a glimmer turning brighter and brighter.
    During their short time together, Cam had wanted her and only her. He couldn't get enough. He'd loved her ample ass, her generous breasts, her rounded tummy. He'd told her all this—not in words, no, but in how he'd behaved. It was she, Layla, who'd made him hot, made him come. Not Jessi or any other woman.
    Pride warmed her, made her heart swell. Layla Messner, tonight you were the hot chick.
    But the rest of the world would not agree. A guy as hot as Cam could only be seen with someone equally drool-worthy. Sexy arm candy he could show off to all his friends. Not a curvy girl, a chubbette like Layla, no matter how nice or sweet or smart. No matter how much magic they shared in bed.
    And maybe, just maybe, that was his loss.
    She drifted to the window, pulling the curtain aside to gaze down