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“Yep, you got it. I’m terrified of your nipples.”
“I’ve got wonderful nipples. Almost as nice as yours.”
“As if you’d know.”
“I remember your nipples clearly. I don’t think I could ever forget them.”
I groan and shake my head as he sits at the end of Bertie, putting my feet in his lap. I should object, but then he’s rubbing them gently, and I guess I forget to tell him to lay off. “Don’t ever talk about my nipples again, please. I don’t need to be reminded of our past dalliances.”
“Dalliances? Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Yes. Now keep doing that, I like it.”
“It’s cute you refer to our dalliances aspast.”
“Uh-uh, no way, don’t start this. You’re rubbing my feet and we’re enjoying our spread of couches. That’s all.”
“That’s all,” he murmurs, staring at me, and I feel my cheeks turn red.
We slept in the same bed last night. It wasn’t so bad—actually kind of nice, honestly—and he kept his hands to himself. Helped that we were both exhausted from fighting over end tables and more than a little drunk.
But getting up this morning was interesting. He was already awake and in the bathroom, and I swear I didn’t mean it, but I rolled onto my side and caught him standing at the mirror completely nude—yes, completely nude, dick out and all—and I might’ve stared for a little while. I mean, the guy’s an asshole, but he’s an absolutely beautiful asshole with a really, really nice cock, and he might’ve caught me staring.
Which was more than a little embarrassing.
He didn’t even bother closing the door. Just laughed and went back to shaving.
The sick bastard.
I might’ve snuck another peek before getting out of there.
And now here we are, the tension so thick I could scoop it with a spoon.
“Well, this has been great, but I should get going.” I try to move but he holds onto my ankles, keeping me in place.
“Where are you running off to?”
“Lunch with Sophia.”
“It’s eight in the morning. I think you have time.”
“Don’t you have work?”
“No. I gave my work to Saul, remember?”
“Oh. Right.” I clear my throat, feeling like an asshole for mentioning it. “How are you, you know, holding up?”
“Wow. Was that your attempt at asking how I’m feeling?”
“No, because I definitely don’t care. I was just being polite, which I thoroughly regret.”
“Right, well, I’m doing fine.”
“Really?” I sip my coffee and put the mug down on one of the nearby coffee tables. I call it Joshua because he reminds me of a guy I briefly worked with. That dude had the personality of a table.
“I have other things to occupy my mind.” He squeezes my feet and I let out a sharp breath. “Besides, I almost like the challenge of starting over.”
“Will your old employees be fine with this change?”
