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His touch lingered on mine for just an extra half second. Then he nodded and hopped back up into the truck.
“The Italian Stallion back there is Roman by the way,” Erik called from the top of the ramp. “And the blond one’s Zane.”
“Ah,” I acknowledged. “Either of them actually in college?”
“Roman is,” he replied with a grin. “The rest of us are just hunks.”
With a grunt, he lifted the next box and carried it down the ramp. I stacked two of the smaller ones against my chest and followed.
My God, his ass is fantastic…
It was a little salacious maybe, perving out like this. But for the past hour I’d been really enjoying the view. And hey, if I were being honest — it had been a while. Much longer than I actually liked to admit.
We made our way back to my new apartment, which amazed me every time I walked through the door. A big wide studio, with smooth oak floors and beautifully molded walls, it was easily double the size of any place I’d ever lived before.
I almost wanted to pinch myself again, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
“How many more?” asked Zane, the blond one. Like the others, he’d stripped off his brightly-colored uniform, and was down to a sleeveless white T-shirt that hugged his lithe, beautiful body. I could even see the hint of his sculpted abdominals, straining against the fabric as he caught his breath.
“More than enough,” Erik chuckled. “It’s like the truck keeps refilling itself.” His eyes darted playfully to me. “I think she’s moving three whole families in here.”
“Five,” I countered, without missing a beat.
“See?” said Erik, with a lau
gh. “I told ya she’s one of us.”
Just then the Italian Stallion stomped in from the back bedroom. He was tall and dark and devilishly handsome, a little fact that certainly hadn’t escaped my notice.
“Roman, Zane,” said Erik with a gesture. “This here is Savannah, not ‘ma’am’.”
I smiled pleasantly and nodded.
“Savannah, these are my chucklehead friends.”
I reached out to shake each of their hands, then turned back to Erik. “Are all of your friends chuckleheads?”
“Only the best ones.”
“I see.”
Introductions finished, we headed back down for the rest of my stuff. It took the better part of another two hours, even with four of us, before we were staring at the back wall of the moving truck. Box by box, step by step, the last of my things was finally carried up three flights of overly-steep stairs. It left us breathless and heaving, leaning against the barren walls.
“Damn,” said Roman. He made his way through the kitchen and started filling a plastic cup with tap water. “That was a rough one.”
I watched him drink, the water moving in rhythmic gulps down his magnificent throat. He had the jawline of a boxer. The hands of one, too.
“At least you didn’t have any couches,” chuckled Zane. “Or loungers. Or…” He paused and scratched his head. “Hey, where is all your furniture anyway?”
“In those boxes,” I smiled, pointing.
His innocent eyes went wide. “Seriously?”
“Yup. Everything’s all brand new.” I raised my shoulders in a little shrug. “Figured I’d give myself a fresh start.”
Roman mopped the back of his sun-bronzed neck with the bandana that had been hanging out of his front pocket all day. “Well it doesn’t get much fresher than this.”
Zane walked the room in a circle, admiring the high ceilings. “You’re going to be here all week putting this stuff together,” he said, gesturing around.
