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18
Michael held his breath as Stella walked into his one-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t dirty—he was actually a super neat person—but it wasn’t very nice, either.
He tried looking at the space through her eyes. A small brown Ikea sofa sat against one wall of the living room across from a modest-sized flat-screen TV. At the back of the room were his workout bench and an arrangement of organized free weights. His punching bag hung near the corner in flagrant violation of his rental agreement.
The kitchen was a cramped area with laminate countertops, an electric range, and a small wooden table with four matching chairs. He kept a plant in the center of the table for color because, yeah, he liked that sort of thing. A metal filing cabinet was pushed against the back wall with bills and things on top he hadn’t gotten around to yet.
Stella removed her high heels and set them next to his other shoes. Her purse she placed absently on his couch as she inspected the DVDs lined up inside the TV console.
Leaning over for a closer look, she gave him a gratuitous view of her luscious ass. “You alphabetize them.”
He couldn’t help laughing. She never acted the way he expected. “Am I rocking your world, Stella?”
“What is this? Laughing in the Wind?” She opened the glass door and pulled out the one-inch-thick DVD case.
“Only the best wuxia television series ever.”
She glanced up from the box with her lips parted, looking like she’d found the Holy Grail, and it took effort not to grin like hell. None of his previous girlfriends had known what wuxia was, let alone shared his secret dorky obsession.
Trying to stay cool, he kicked his shoes off and placed them next to hers. “You can borrow it if you want.”
She hugged her treasure to her chest. “Okay, thanks.”
“Be careful, though. It’s really addicting, and there are eighty episodes or something.” He rubbed the smile off his mouth and ran his fingers through his hair. “Feel free to look around while I pack my stuff.”
But instead of staying behind when he went to his bedroom, she followed him and perched on the edge of the bed, smiling at him before checking out the plain space with curious sweeps of her eyes. Dressed in her expensive business clothes, she looked so out of place inside his cheap apartment that he wondered why the fuck he’d brought her here.
To torment himself, probably.
This was a no-client, no-woman zone, a place where he went to get normal in his head. How was he going to set his mind straight when things ended if he had memories of her sitting on his bed, waiting for him, smiling in the way that was just for him?
He escaped to his walk-in closet and stared at his suits and shirts, letting the sight remind him of a time when he hadn’t lived with a noose around his neck. He mentally picked out which garments to bring to Stella’s and retrieved a black sports bag from the top shelf. On his way out of the closet, he deliberated over the number of socks and boxers to pack. A week’s worth should—
Stella was curled up in his blankets, burrowing into his pillow with an expression of pure ecstasy on her face. It was strange as hell. It shouldn’t have aroused him.
But it did.
He dropped his bag to the ground and leaned over her. “Now that you’ve found my pillow and sheets, you don’t need me anymore. Is that it?” he whispered.
Her eyes popped open, and she blushed. “They smell so good.”
“Aren’t you concerned they’re dirty?”
She widened her eyes and tossed the blankets away from her chest. She looked like she might be sick, looked almost betrayed.
Before she could start hyperventilating, he lay down on the bed and gathered her against himself. “I’m the only one who sleeps here, Stella. I was kidding. And I shower at night.” He had to wash his clients away before he slept. No way would he bring them into his bed.
Well, except for this client. None of his rules had ever applied to Stella.
She pounded her fists against his chest without force. “That’s not funny, Michael.”
“I’m sorry.” He smoothed the hair away from her face and straightened her glasses for her. “I was only teasing you, and I didn’t think about . . . the others . . . until you reacted that way.”
“You really haven’t brought any of them here?”
Was she jealous? Did he want her to be jealous? Fuck yes, he did. “Never.”
She pursed her lips like she was biting the inside. “I should leave. I barged my way in here, didn’t I? Thank you for showing it to me. I like it. I should get a plant.”
