“Have you seen my bag?”
“I put it by the door.” He points to the counter. “But your phone is here charging.”
He…charged my phone for me? Did he go through my purse too? Look at my texts?
“I didn’t snoop through anything, I promise. You had an alarm going off this morning, and I remember you said you didn’t have to work, so I figured I’d let you sleep. I noticed your phone was at fifteen percent, so I plugged it in for you. I didn’t look at anything else, I swear.”
I believe him. Gavin doesn’t strike me as that kind of guy. To be fair, I did nose around in his bathroom cabinets last night, so tit for tat and all that, but still.
I slide off the stool and grab my phone. I bypass the emails from apartments probably turning me down and the texts from my dad and Angie and go straight for the one from Reed.
Reed: Born at 3:34 AM. Alana Marie Hutchinson. She’s perfect.
I smile instantly, knowing Marie is a nod to Reed’s mother’s middle name, and my smile grows even wider when I see the photo he sent along. He’s right—Alana is perfect. A little bundle of pink, her nose just like her father’s, hair as dark as her mother’s.
“She’s cute, right?” Gavin says.
I blink away the tears stinging my eyes. “She is. She looks like Reed.”
“Poor kid.”
I laugh. “Poor Auden. Now she’s really stuck with him.”
He grins at me as he flips the food again. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
“I thought you might be. Just need to finish this, then grab the plates, and we’ll be good to go.”
“Oh, I can help.”
I pull open the cabinet beside me, and by some miracle, it has just what I’m looking for. Unfortunately for me, Gavin is a giant, which means his plates aren’t exactly reachable, even with my height. I push up on my tiptoes, trying to reach them, but it’s no use. I lift my leg to climb onto the counter, and that’s when I feel him.
He’s behind me, and he’s reaching for the plates, but it’s so much more than just that. He’s pressing up against me, and there is absolutely no mistaking how perfectly his cock lines up with my ass because I canfeelit. I can feelhim, and I want to feel more.
I want him to push my shirt—hisshirt—up around my waist and slip my panties to the side. I want him to drop to his knees behind me and worship me with his tongue. Then I want him to slide his cock into me just like he did in the shower in New York. I just want him.
But I can’t have him.
It was nothing. Just a night of fun. It didn’t mean anything.
His words echo in my mind, and though they’re not the ice bucket I wish they were, it’s enough to clear my mind of the images assaulting me.
“Um, Gavin?” I manage to say.
“Yeah?” he asks, breath hot against my ear.
“Where are my pants?”
The question brings us both crashing back down to earth, and he pushes away from me, plates in hand. If I weren’t struggling so hard to breathe, I’d think I imagined the whole thing. I settle my feet back on the floor, taking my time before turning to look at him.
“Dryer,” he tells me. “I, uh, threw them in the wash this morning. I know how you hate to smell like the bar. They should be done within the hour.”
He washed my clothes.I can’t believe this man washed my clothes. Unprovoked. And because of something I said weeks ago. He charged my phone, he gave me a bed to sleep in because he knows I’ve been struggling, and he’s making me breakfast. I can’t remember a time I ever felt so taken care of, and I don’t know what to do with that.
“Oh.” I brush my hair behind my ear. “Uh, thank you. That was kind.”
“No problem,” he mutters before giving me his back and plating our food.
