Page 22 of Bound Hearts

“I’d rather see you without it.” My voice is rough, eyes hungry as I hold her gaze. “Let’s go back to bed.”

I interlace our hands and tow her along.

Determined to have what I want.

7

SUTTON

A MONTH LATER

Standing in my bedroom doorway, I admire Foster half-naked on my bed, ankles crossed, back against the headboard, shirtless.

He hears movement and quickly holds up my phone. “Your phone chimed. I think it’s all charged now.” He jingles it in his hand and holds it out to me.

I flop onto my bed, still in my satin tank top and shorts, landing on my stomach with my phone. I check my battery, spot the peak ovulation notification and briefly consider finding a birth control that works for me, before dismissing it. Instead, I think about tomorrow morning and open the gym app—free membership is a Haven Crossroads perk.

“Anything riveting?” he asks as he swings his legs to the side, sits on the edge of the bed, and picks up his watch from the bedside table.

“I’m contemplating tomorrow’s Pilates class.”

He glances over his shoulder with a humorous glare while fastening his watch, likely worth as much as my rent. “You shouldn’t need one. Not after the last hour.”

I chuckle under my breath and drop my phone onto the mattress. “That was quite a performance.”

“We had to make up for lost time. I was away all week in Houston.”

That’s what has become of us.

Two people who, in blatant terms, have sex whenever we have a chance. That’s what it is. He and I both need a release from a stressful day and recognize that we are the perfect match to help one another.

But we also share dinners and send texts that aren’t sexual.

“Didn’t we need to burn off that BBQ?” I tease.

“Hey, that supplier’s dinner at a low-key BBQ joint that uses plastic forks was genius, delicious, and casual enough for them to warm to us.” He grins to himself. “I even asked for information to get some of that stuff shipped here.”

“Such a foodie. But I let you get away with it because I sent you a gazillion articles on some new restaurants…and you also bought me barely-there sleepwear that I’m thoroughly enjoying right now.”

He smirks sheepishly. In between food discussions, I sent him a few pics asking his preferences. Next thing I knew, a box arrived at my place.

As he yawns, Foster rubs his tired face with both palms. “It was also an exhausting few days.”

I crawl my fingers across the sheet, inching toward his arm. “Yet you made it here at 10 p.m. as soon as you landed.” I tap his elbow.

Foster gives me that sinful smirk. It’s knowing, slightly cocky, but completely for me. “Priorities.”

The room grows quiet as we stare at each other. I blush while his eyes remain on me, and a small smirk plays on his lips.

Normally, we part ways now, but lately, I’ve been struggling to ignore a growing wave of feelings I can’t quite name.

All I know is that we’re in our own bubble. Nobody knows what we’re doing. I’m convinced I’m the only one who sees him as he is with me: relaxed, funny, not at all how he is in the office.

“It’s late,” I say. Time for my attempt at a goodbye. We got what we needed.

“It is.” He glimpses real quick at his watch. “I have to be in the office by 7.”

“You need sleep then,” I say blandly, as our eyes lock.