Page 153 of Gold Rush

Finch welcomes Rory and me home with loud meows. She stayed with a pet sitter while we were out of town, attending Lili’s wedding, and it wasn’t a positive experience for either of them. I guess Finch yowled for large portions of the long weekend. She seems greatly relieved that we’ve resumed returning daily, circling our ankles with her tail swishing sassily.

“I found an apartment,” I comment, yanking off my tie and slipping off my shoes before setting the bag of takeout we stopped for on the counter.

Rory rises from the crouch she was lowered in, petting the cat. “In … Boston?”

“In this building.”

“In this—what? Why would you get an apartment in this building?”

I tick the reasons off on one hand. “I only have to move my clothes a couple of floors. I already timed the commute to work. Finch can stay with me sometimes. I like Gavin.”

“There’s no outdoor terrace,” Rory interjects.

I grin. “True. But I don’t really care about amenities. I care about being near you. So, by that criterion, your building is really the only option for me to move.”

“If you care about being near me … why would you move at all?”

I study her expression closely. “You want to keep living together?”

She nods. “I know this was only supposed to be temporary, so if it’s too serious or too fast for⁠—”

“You heard me earlier, right? I love you. That’s not casual or moving slow.”

Her cheeks are a shade darker suddenly. “Yeah, I heard you.”

“Good.” I open the paper bag and start pulling out containers. “Do you want to eat here or at the tab⁠—”

A scrap of lace lands on my right arm. I grab the thong with my left hand, crumpling it in my palm.

Abandoning dinner on the island, I walk toward a smirking Rory. “Subtle.”

She crosses her arms, leaning against the back of one of the armchairs. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

“I can take a hint.”

“I know. It’s one of your few redeeming qualities.”

I grin. “I love it when you’re mean to me.”

Rory rolls her eyes, then sobers. She grabs my shirt when I’m close enough, fisting the fabric tightly. “I’m mean to you because you tell me to be meaner. Because you don’t assume I’ll be proper and polite and accommodating, like most people, and that’s really freeing. And also because”—she bites her bottom lip—“you fluster me. I’m always … aware of you, and it’s really distracting. And confusing. I’ve been confused too. I’m—I—” She huffs a laugh. “I can’t even think straight while you’re this close to me.”

“You mean, all I had to do to avoid years of lectures was stand closer to you?”

She bites her lip again. Nods. “Basically.”

I grin. “You shouldn’t have told me that.” I reach out, running my thumb along the length of her jaw and then tracing her lower lip.

Her next exhale is a little unsteady. Her tongue darts out, mirroring the same path as my thumb.

My dick is inflating faster than a balloon. I press against her, letting her feel the hard bulge. Her breathing becomes even more erratic.

“You know that I think you’re brilliant and insightful and extraordinary, right?”

She blushes again. “Uh … thanks.”

“Those were facts, Florence. Not compliments.”

Her smile strengthens, losing former shyness. “I know.”