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Last night, when he’d pulled up in front of her building, she’d still been asleep, but she’d shifted so that he could clearly see her face. In sleep, she looked softer. More vulnerable. It had seemed wrong, suddenly, to just take her back to her place and leave. Despite it probably being what he should do, for both their sakes, the last thing he wanted to communicate to her was that he didn’t care, that he’d abandoned her, that he truly never wanted to see her again. He’d driven to his place, pulled into his garage, gently lifted her out of the car, and used his private elevator to carry her into his penthouse. He’d put her in his bed, still wearing her clothes, covered her with the blankets, then stared down at her. Unsurprisingly, he felt a primal sense of possessiveness seeing her in his room, in his bed and sheets, feeling in many ways that it was himself surrounding her. He wanted her, of course, just like always, but what he felt most wasn’t the need to climb into bed with her so he could strip her of her clothes and fuck her. Instead, his entire being was filled with a sense of tenderness and affection.
And longing.
He’d been so blindsided by another blast of emotions that he’d promptly hightailed it out of the bedroom and spent a restless night on the couch. Less than eight hours later, he’d been out the door for a run.
By the time he made it back into his building, he was out of breath, and his clothes were soaked with sweat. To buy himself even more time, he stopped in the building’s gym and took a shower in the elegant locker room, then threw in a steam sauna and dry sauna for good measure, only to shower again. Finally, he dressed in one of the spare outfits he kept in his locker.
It was almost noon by that point, so with a heavy heart, he headed back to his penthouse, certain that Skylar would have left. Instead, when he walked in, he saw her curled up on the couch, reading a book, and wearing an oversized T-shirt.
HisT-shirt.
She looked up and smiled at him. “Hi.”
He wanted to rip that fucking T-shirt off her body, push her to the floor, spread her wide, and gorge himself on her.
Instead, he responded, “Hi.”
Brilliant, Bauer. Just brilliant.
“Hi,” she said again. “Did you have a good . . . walk?”
“Run,” he said. “I went for a run. I’m going to . . . erm . . . take a shower,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the master bathroom like she needed visual help to decipher what he meant. He ignored the fact that he’d just taken two showers downstairs and was in his street clothes, which was why she was probably looking at him like he was crazy.
“Okay,” she said brightly, obviously giving him a pass on his insanity. “Want me to make something for lunch? I poked around and saw you had fixings for a salad. Sandwiches. Even pasta.”
“You don’t have to go to that trouble,” he said.
“It’s no trouble,” she said.
“You . . . won’t be going to work today?”
She shot him another smile though this one was visibly strained. “No. I called in sick. I didn’t think I could deal with Hardy today given . . . ”
Given she’d made a sound like Julian was getting her off right in front of him, then proceeded to act out in front of the entire restaurant and Regina, leaving Julian no choice but to carry her out of there?
Yes, he could see how she’d want to call in sick. He should have factored those things into all his earlier musings about fate and free will.
“Which reminds me,” she continued. “Don’t let me leave here without the binder that’s in your car.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t,” he said.
“Thank you.”
So this was how they were playing it? Ignoring what happened yesterday? Pretending they were friends? What were they doing, being so damn polite to one another? Again, he wanted to say the hell with it and ask her if, by any chance, she wanted to fuck him because he really wanted to fuck her. Or if that didn’t work for her, maybe they could climb into bed and still get to know one another better, even if that just meant swapping life stories.
Rather than do that, he murmured, “Okay, well, I’ll just head in.” Again with the visual aid via his gesturing thumb.Damn it, Bauer!He headed into the bathroom.
He didn’t have any choice now but to take another shower. So what the hell—he figured he’d used the opportunity to get his cock under control, given it was pushing against his pants, demanding to be let free.
Ten minutes later, after he’d jerked off in the shower and dressed, he reappeared in the living room
Skylar was in the kitchen, still wearing his T-shirt, and he couldn’t help but admire her long legs and the sway of her unfettered breasts as she shifted. She’d washed off all her make-up, leaving her face bare and vulnerable-looking, and her hair was disheveled as if he’d spent the night with his hands buried in it, pulling and pushing her where he wanted her.
In some ways, she looked like a stranger, yet she was as beautiful as he’d ever seen her, and given he’d twice seen her in gorgeous ball gowns and wearing full make-up, her hair curled and coiffed to perfection, that was saying something.
As soon as she saw him, she carried two plates to the dining table. “I just made a salad and sandwiches. Hope that’s okay.”
“That’s great,” he said.
