I sigh with relief when we pull up to the house. My ass is sore from sitting. And frankly, I’m sore from… well… everything else. I get out of the car and walk to the front door, watching the sexiest man alive as he walks toward me.
“I don’t know if I should interview to work for Kyle,” I say when Caine drops the bag inside the door.
Caine stands up straight and places his hands on his hips. “Okay,” he says. “Are you leaving?” he asks with a deep-set frown. “I thought we were past this,” he adds. He shuts his eyes and runs his hands through his hair and pulls the strands.
My brow furrows. “I’m not leaving,” I grumble. “Jesus. Will you stop jumping to conclusions?”
“Are you…” He purses his lips. “Me? I’m jumping to conclusions?” he shouts, raising his arms out to the side as he stalks toward me.
“Kyle is a dick.” Can’t defend that, now can he?
Caine smiles and nods, his anger seemingly diffused.
“What about the job you were telling me about before?” I propose.
It would make more sense to not work for someone who clearly doesn’t like me.
“That’s the job I was suggesting,” he says, smiling sheepishly at me.
When he stands in front of me and cups my face, I shut my eyes. The heat from him does things to me. His smell, his touch… him. I tingle in places. But there’s a lingering unease I’m feeling. I must really be tired. Maybe a little dehydrated?
It’s the strangest thing. Being touched by him… it’s not only sexual. Though obviously it’s sexual. I want him… all the time! Even while feeling icky.
“I don’t want to work for someone who doesn’t like me out the gate, you know?” I lean into him and wrap my arms around his waist. All my weight transfers to him, and hetakes it, lifting me up and walking to the sofa.
“Why don’t you go to the interview and see him as a doctor rather than my friend,” Caine suggests. He cuddles his scruffy face into my neck, and I giggle because it tickles. “We need to go to my folks.”
“I can’t go like this,” I say, sitting back abruptly. “I look like shit!” I pull on my t-shirt with the words:I prefer fictional people; they’re more real!fading on the white top I’m wearing. My oversized mom jeans were perfect for traveling, but I look horrible.
“Go change, but you don’t have time to shower.”
I quickly hop off his lap and run to the spare room. “Where’s my suitcase?” I walk out of the room.
“In the master, remember?” He laughs as he walks to his room.
“When is the studio going to be available?” I drop to the ground and unzip my suitcase. “I wonder if I should go home and get the rest of my stuff,” I suggest and look up at him.
“The studio is yours whenever you’re ready to move in.” From the frown on his face, I can tell he’s less than thrilled with the idea. “As for your stuff, there’s no way in fucking hell I’m letting you go there alone.”
I smile up at him from the floor. “You’ll come to Seattle with me?”
I grab a simple grey t-shirt dress from my bag and toss it on the bed.
“I wish we had more time,” Caine groans and adjusts himself as I undress. “Let’s get going,” he groans.
I quickly pull on the dress. At the door, I pull on my Vans.
The walk to the main house isn’t long and is most welcome after sitting for so long.
I still feel off. Tired and sore. But I push through it. I just need to move. Maybe need food? I should drink some water.
All we’ve done is sit and have sex all day. Caine ate a burger on the road, but the thought of food makes me feel sick.
I stop short and look at my hands. They’re shaking, but I ball them into fists as a realization dawns.
“Oh, shit!” I bemoan, plopping my hands on my head in shame.
Caine looks down at me. “What’s wrong?” he asks, grabbing my shoulders.
