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“Just sometimes,” Robby says. “When I want him to.”

And the air changes again, chilling the surface of my skin, leaving goosebumps across my body. Rook had let me have control, but Robby was reclaiming it and his identity. I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Because it was never mine to control.

Chapter Seventeen

Robby

“We need some fresh sheets,” I finally say into Appa’s damp, frizzy hair. “And I’m starving.”

She lifts her head off my chest, unsticking her untamed hair from my skin, and props her chin on her hand. “Me too.” The sheets rustle as she rolls over and grabs her phone from her nightstand. “Oh, my God, it’s almost noon! My notifications are insane. Um, I have a sponsored story opportunity for a delivery service if you want to get something delivered?”

Spending the morning between Appa’s legs wasn’t how I imagined it would go. I was supposed to be home, in my bed, restless and wallowing in regret. Instead, fate made me crash at her place and let her find me.

“Yeah, that’d be great. What do you mean, sponsored? They’re really paying you to have something posted for twenty-four hours?” I ask.

Given what Rook posts, not many companies reach out for sponsorships. Though a condom company sent me a variety pack as PR once. The box lives full in the top drawer of my nightstand.

Appa nods. “Pretty much.” She looks at her phone, opening an app. “I’m kind of feeling like pizza, but I need some coffee.” And that’s what we do. I would normally argue both the place she ordered the pizza from and also iced coffee, but I need both, too.

While we wait for that to be delivered, we remake her bed with a fresh set of clean sheets, filling the air with the scent of detergent. Seeing her queen-sized bed in the light makes it seem so small. She’ll need a king-size bed if I’m going to spend more time here.

I pull on my briefs again. “I should probably go home for new clothes at some point,” I say.

Appa frowns as she stuffs her pillow into the new pillowcase. “Not forever, right? Like you’ll come back?” My hands, busy stuffing a pillow into a pillowcase, still. That fucking Polaroid was a mistake. It cracked her trust in me before we ever got started. And how the hell could I ever say no to her with her big blue puppy-dog eyes? “I mean, it’s Saturday.” Her voice is shy, but her clinginess only makes her that much cuter. Most guys might retreat, but I welcome it.

“Of course.” I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her shoulders and hug her to my chest. She feels so soft against me. “Apps, it wasn’t right of me to pull that with the picture. I’m sorry,” I whisper. I plant a kiss on the top of her head and pray she believes me.

“It wasn’t, but you’re still here.” She looks up at me. “I don’t want you to go,” she says with what sounds like a nervous laugh.

“I just need to go for clothes and to work on Monday,” I answer.

Her eyes sparkle. “Do you work from home?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I have a home office.”

She can’t possibly want to live together.

“One step at a time, baby.”

When the pizza and coffee are delivered, we walk down the steps hand in hand in our underwear. Seeing her house in the light, not through my phone screen, gives me a weird sense of whiplash. I’ve seen a lot of her place over time from her posts, enough to know that her style is overly curated and feminine, and I’m not sure how she’d like my more rustic, industrial taste.

How would that mesh if we ended up under the same roof?

Appa squats down in the kitchen and retrieves her robe, puddled on the floor from last night. “This didn’t last long,” she adds casually. A flash of a smile grazes my lips, but it fades fast. She slips it on over her shoulders.

Opening the front door, she takes a quick picture of the box and drinks at her doorstep with her phone for the sponsorship, and once she has her picture, I set the pizza box on the counter. The same counter where she grabbed the edge last night to stabilize herself when I had my dick practically down her esophagus.

Oof.

“This looks so good,” she buzzes, holding two paper plates. The comforting scent of tomato and cheese fills the kitchen, and my mouth practically waters.

“Was that too rough…last night? You know, right here?” I ask.

She looks away, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I loved it.” She brushes past me to get to the pizza box.