“Does this answer your question?” He lowers me to the bed, his cock stiff and throbbing against my thigh.
“Already?”
“For you, always.”
His mouth captures mine as one hand slips between us to cup my breast. Then he spends the rest of the night proving his point.
CHAPTER NINE
Connor
“HONEY,I’MHOME.” It’s half joke, half wishful thinking. As in I wish Brie and I were more than fuck buddies. That our living arrangement was one of commitment, not convenience.
Stupid? Probably. Brie and I aren’t who anyone would pick as the perfect couple. Not only because of the best friend’s sister thing. It’s like Jake said. Brie and I are nothing alike. She craves attention. I might as well be allergic to it.
It’s like we’re circling in two different orbits. I should be happy they happened to overlap for however long whatever we’re doing lasts.
Shouldn’t I?
“I’m in here,” she calls from somewhere in the recesses of our—my—apartment.
I drop my briefcase just inside the door and follow the sound of her voice. It’s one of her rare days off. Which is why I cut my time at the club short and raced home. It’s been over two weeks since the night of the black-tie benefit. And thanks to our crazy, conflicting schedules, I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve managed a repeat performance.
That ends tonight.
I find her curled up on the couch flanked by my traitorous cats. She’s concentrating on something on her laptop screen, a pencil between her teeth.
I hang back and let myself study her, unobserved. She’s gorgeous, even in baggy sweats and a faded T-shirt, her hair in a messy bun, her face free of makeup. Especially in baggy sweats and a faded T-shirt, her hair in a messy bun, her face free of makeup.
Without taking her eyes off the screen, she takes the pencil from her mouth and jots something down on a pad beside her. “Are you going to come over here and kiss me, or are you planning to stand there staring at me all day?”
Tough choice. I come up behind her and press a soft kiss on her exposed neck. As I do, I catch a glimpse of what she’s looking at on her computer, and my stomach tightens.
“What’s that?” I ask, knowing full well what it is. We haven’t talked about her moving out since we started sleeping together. But it shouldn’t surprise me that she’s still looking for a new place. She said from the start that this was temporary. The fact that we’re fucking doesn’t change that.
So why do I feel like someone’s shoved a knife in my gut? A rusty one, with a serrated edge.
“Apartment hunting.” She sounds almost giddy. The knife twists deeper. “This one actually looks promising. Within my price range, not too far from the 6 train, and the guy I’d be rooming with seems halfway decent. At least he doesn’t expect me to share the place with his collection of taxidermy foxes, like the last one.”
Guy?I lean in to take a closer look at the listing on the screen. What I see only ratchets up my frustration.
My hands ball into tight fists. It’s a good thing I’m still behind the couch and she can’t see them.
“You are not moving there.”With another guy.“It’s not safe. They have one of the highest murder rates in the five boroughs. And instead of a Starbucks, there’s a methadone clinic on every corner.”
“Good. I’ll finally be able to kick the habit.”
My teeth clench and a muscle in my jaw tics. Not two minutes ago, I walked through the door in such high spirits. How did things go so far downhill so fast? “Not funny.”
She slams her laptop shut and stands. “Neither is you trying to dictate where I can and cannot live.”
The cats, sensing trouble, leap from the couch and flee the room. Can’t say I blame them. I wish I could escape, too.
Instead, I man up and come around the sofa so I’m standing in front of her. I’m not having this discussion with a three-hundred-fifty-pound piece of furniture between us. “I’m not dictating where you live—”
“You are not moving there,” she says in a lilting, sing-song voice, mocking me.
“I did not sound like that.”
