AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I let go of her body and snatch up her bag. "To the kitchen for a piece."
"A piece of what?"
"Your brownies." I grasp her hand, raising it to my mouth, and brush light kisses over her knuckles. "But I'm open to suggestions."
A few seconds ago, I wanted space. Now, I'm all but seducing her.
"Later," she says, biting the inside of her cheek. "Okay?"
Disappointment floods through me as I rise to help her up. "No rush, lass. No rush at all."
My cock disagrees.
Erica trails behind me as we leave the living room and head down the short hallway that leads into the kitchen. My gaze inevitably keeps flicking to the walls where the man whose house I'm living in displays framed photographs. Gil Friedman took all of those pictures, though not as a hobby. He works as a freelance photographer and does very well at it, which is no surprise considering how good his shots are. The walls in the hallway show off mostly his landscapes and cityscapes but also some of the stunning portraits he's done.
One image catches my eye, and I halt to admire it, tipping my head to the side. In the photo, Erica is laughing and smiling so brightly that I get a pang in my chest just looking at the picture. Sunlight shimmers on her hair while wind whips it across one side of her face. Her cheeks are pink, and her eyes sparkle. She looks so bonnie and happy. I can't remember the last time I felt that way. Maybe I never have.
Erica stops beside me, though she stares at a landscape photo rather than the picture of her.
I point to the portrait. "The loveliest of all Gil's works."
She bows her head, fiddling with her shirt's hem.
"Why don't you look at it?" I ask. "Don't strike me as the shy sort."
Erica shuffles closer to the wall, sucks in a breath, and lifts her gaze to the photograph. Her expression seems pained now, as if the picture portrays something unpleasant.
What about this happy portrait makes her uneasy?
"I hate that picture," she says, then she pushes past me and hurries into the kitchen.
For a few seconds, I just stand here studying the photograph. Something I hadn't noticed before catches my attention now—someone's arm hooked around her shoulders, mostly hidden by her hair. But I can see the other person's hand. It looks like a man's hand. A man's arm.
Could it be the scunner who had harassed her this morning? That would explain her reaction to the beautiful portrait.
I walk into the kitchen only a few paces behind Erica, since she's shuffling along, and Casey gambols in behind me. Erica sits on one side of the small table, so I take a seat on the opposite side. When I deposit her bag on the tabletop, she reaches inside to pull out a glass cake dish. She sets it down on the table. The brownies must still be warm since the sinfully dark treats have steamed up the cling film covering them.
The aroma of the sweet chocolate wafts around me, stimulating my appetite, but the hungry look on Erica's face as she gazes at the brownies makes me want to devour more than food. I strip off the cling film, though my mind insists on torturing me with fantasies of stripping Erica's clothes off and crumbling brownies on her skin so I can lick the crumbs off.
She folds her hands on the tabletop, her thumbs rotating in restless movements. "Lachlan, I know I agreed to the sex thing but, um…"
I freeze, focused on the cling film dangling from my hand. "You've changed your mind?"
Christ, I pray she says no. Why do I care? I met this woman last night, and I do not want to get entangled in a relationship again, not so soon after my divorce. Maybe never. Yet I need to have Erica in my bed for the month.
Aye, I'm a hypocrite and an erse.
I lift my gaze to Erica.
She spreads her hands over the wood tabletop, seeming to study the pattern of the grain. "I haven't changed my mind. But I don't think I'm ready to get started tonight."
My shoulders sag. I'm disappointed she wants to wait, but I understand her reluctance to jump straight into a meaningless fling with me. How long will she need until she feels comfortable with the idea? Maybe I can do something to lessen her anxiety.
What, I've got no bloody idea.
I crumple the cling film and give her a closed-mouth smile. "I understand. We could spend time together, so you'll be comfortable with me before we have a poke."
Her lips pucker briefly, then her brows lift. "Doesn't spending time together count as a relationship?"
