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I get it now.
“No. Uh, I mean, it was me.”
“What?”
“I did it to myself.”
“How?” Sebastian corrals me onto the couch, his brows pinched. Shit, even his scowl is attractive.
“You look like a spotted owl.” Taking the seat beside me, he picks up my foot and gently massages the little black spots dotting my skin, as though he can force them out with the magic of his touch.
The air promptly leaves my lungs. Vanishes. No trace. Not even a note.
Who knew heaven could feel exactly like hell?
“Um” is all I manage to choke out. I’m mesmerized by the sight of his tanned hands on my pale legs.
“What were you even doing?”
“Dresser,” I say, breathless.
His knuckles shift and move, rolling and kneading my skin, the pressure gentle and controlled.
“I uh,”Christ, “brought it in by myself, and the base bumped me a few times. I didn’t realize it would be this bad.”
He nods, switching to my other leg. I can feel myself starting to sweat.
“You should have waited for me. I would have brought it in for you.”
I hum, far too drunk on his touch to process anything so complex as words. Shit, I can’t even remember the last time a guy touched me like this. Have I ever been touched like this? I bite back a whimper and almost jolt off the couch when he accidentally brushes the back of my knee. Any more of that, and I’ll do something ridiculous like kiss him.
“Thanks,” I squeak. “I don’t regularly get in street fights, just so you know. And if I did, I would probably look a lot worse than this.”
“Strength is not always on the outside. What’s inside counts for more, and you have it in abundance.”
It’s in this moment that I realize we’ve never been alone together. Notalonealone. Aiden has always been around somewhere. But now it’s just us. Uh, just him and me. And not only for a few hours, but weeks. Months. My knees go a little wobbly. Who the hell are we to each other when no one else is around? I’m used to exchanging polite heys or a quick round of teasing, but living together means getting it all. Every little flavor of Sebastian. Does he cook? Does he clean up after himself? Not that it would matter,because my constant need to clean when I’m anxious will take care of any mess he could dream of making. And—oh shit—is that going to freak him out? Maybe I should keep my box of gloves and sprays in my room, just until I know how he’ll react.
Come to think of it, how will he feel about splitting chores?
Which way does he prefer the toilet roll to be? Because I’m a roll over, not under girl, and I’m not sure I could live with someone who isn’t. Is he going to get weird when I have my period? What about music? I talk to myself when I’m stuck on a book problem, so I’m going to have to stop that, or at least not do it when he’s home.
Oh.
This is his home. Mine too, technically, but I can’t quite get my mind to cross that line yet. Even with my name—and my credit—on the line, it doesn’t feel right. Sebastian found it, wanted it, and I’m only here as a… silent partner?
“How’s that?” He strokes a thumb down the inside of my calf. Any more and I’ll either melt into the fibers of the couch or throw myself at him. “Does that feel better?”
The rich rumble of his voice rolls through me, and tingles spread from his fingertips all the way through my body.
“Are you working tonight?” I ask, not sure which answer I want. This is my first official night here, and although I lived alone in Chance, my studio was about a fifth of the size of this place and a heck of a lot noisier. I have no idea how I’m going to sleep. Then again, I’m almost certain sharing a wall with Sebastian will make anybedroom activity outside of sleep basically impossible, so… rock, meet hard place.
Shit, not the time to be thinking of hard things.
“No, I swapped a shift with Jet. After all the overtime I’ve been clocking lately, I think they’re happy to not see me.”
“I doubt that,” I mutter.
“Apparently, I don’t know how to relax. But the joke’s on her, because I’ve got twelve hours of Animal Planet to catch up on.”
