Page 40 of Elevator Pitch

Giving her a few minutes to do what she needs to do, I finish off my wine. When I eventually enter the room, she’s already in bed, sheets tucked over her lap, her back propped against the headboard as if waiting for me, and not just in limbo for our new nightly ritual to begin. But like she might be anticipating me joining her in bed, for something more.

Again, I shake the thought. That isn’t what I’ve propositioned her for.

“I put a spare toothbrush on the counter. In case you’d like to use it.”

Her thoughtfulness has my face heating, and I slide my hands into the pockets of my pants while I tuck my head. I wore casual linen slacks in an attempt to dress a little nicer, not look like a baseball coach on a mission. More like a man intent on spending time with a woman.

“Are we jumping ahead to where I have a toothbrush at your place?” A joke is the only way to diffuse this sudden swirling in my chest. A feeling that’s been dormant until now, stretching and yawning, and seeming to wake up.

Vee chuckles, the sound sweet. “Maybe.” Again, not a seductive tease but a playful giggle.

The sound puts me at ease.

I nod and enter the open bathroom space, taking time to brush my teeth and slip into the toilet closet a moment. Stepping back out, I wash my hands. I’d really like to strip off my pants and remove my tee, but I don’t want to appear like I’m expecting more from Vee.

She’s already given me more than I deserved, more than I should have asked for.

Vee watches as I circle the bed to my official side. One I need to try to stay on, but I also know I’ll inevitably cross during the night.

“Those pants are going to be mighty wrinkled by morning.” She eyes the linen material, already creased from sitting.

“I typically sleep in only my boxer briefs and nothing more.” My mouth crooks upward, taunting her. Or maybe torturing myself, because I want to be wearing less and asking her for more when it isn’t right.

She sighs, glancing at her lap and spreading her hands across the sheets folded over her legs. “If it makes you more comfortable, you can take them off.” Her voice shakes, eyes continuing to avoid me.

“Would you be uncomfortable if I did?” Because I won’t do anything to make her think this arrangement needs to become something else. I’ve had no clear sign Vee is attracted to me, even if she once had a crush on me.

She shakes her head and twists for the lamp, turning off the light to douse us in momentary darkness. I take the cue as permission to remove my pants, keeping on my tee, as if that offers some protection.

My dick still twitches, and I adjust myself. It might turn out to be a long night.

I slip under the sheets and mirror Vee’s position again, both of us staring up at the ceiling where a sliver of light dances through the vertical blinds.

“I want to apologize. I didn’t mean to insult you earlier when I implied you only like supermodels and movie stars, especially considering who Chandler is to you.”

“Vee,” I immediately rotate to my side. “I cared about Chandler but we’re over. It wasn’t love. It was . . .” Companionship?

“Sex,” she adds for me.

“Well,” I clear my throat. “There was that, but I’d like to think we had a little more than just sexual chemistry.” Upon mentioning it, I’m not certain Chandler and I fully had that either. I mean, we had sex, but was it a chemical attraction, something higher level, or just simple biology?

“But we don’t need to share our sexual histories,” I tell her.

“Because we aren’t having sex,” she states, a little too forceful, almost adamant, like a reminder of that invisible line between us.

Feeling strangely shot down when I didn’t have any reason to be up, I don’t reply. I shouldn’t be hopeful of something else with Vee. Something more than just sleeping here beside her.

“Good night, Ross,” she whispers, before turning to give me her back. A position I loathe but try to respect that she doesn’t want me near her.

Try as I might, though, I don’t last more than five minutes before I’m scooting closer to her, molding my chest to her back, and slinging my arm over her waist.

Thankfully, she signals she’s okay with this position when the slightest tickle of her fingertips runs up and down my forearm a second before her hand rests on the bed, just out of reach from holding onto mine.

Chapter 13

[Vee]

In the morning, I wake before the alarming hit it disturbs us. Ross has his arm tucked across my chest, hand cupping my shoulder while my arm is wrapped over his, holding his wrist. At some point during the night, I must have pulled him closer, held onto him tighter.