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As soon as I finish my plate, I stand up and scrape the extra gravy into the trash and take my dishes to the sink. Phillip is right behind me, his bare feet padding almost silently on the faux hardwood floors.
“Let me get you a pillow and blanket,” I say without looking at him. A quiver runs through me as I feel his eyes on me. Just like in that motel, the way he’s staring at me has my body going crazy. Did my boss somehow give me a creepy stalker kink?
It’s hard not to glance back at him, to see him staring at me. Deep down, I know that if we were to look each other in the face right now, I’d be staring down a very slippery slope.
The night that we slept together still lives rent free in my mind. The way I’d mentally begged him to touch me in the slightest, so I’d have a reason to turn over and do a hell of a lot more than look at him.
He follows me, and when I stop in front of the hall closet, I feel him get closer. Not much. Just a half-step away, and then I smell him. That same dark scent that’s on the silk shirt in my closet. I have to take a deep breath to get myself under control.
My body moves instinctively, opening the door and reaching up to the top shelf where the spare blanket and pillows are. I have to stand on my tiptoes to reach it, and then, without saying anything, Phillip reaches over me, his naked chest brushing my back.
He pulls the bedding down, and I’m forced to turn around and look at him. “Thanks,” I say, trying to act normal, not at all like I’m having to fight myself not to throw myself at him.
“Just one more perk of having me around, Addison. Maybe you won’t hate it as much as you thought. I can even open pickle jars.”
He says the words that should be a joke, but with how I’m feeling right now, I’m questioning how I’m ever going to keep the necessary distance between us. I knew this was going to happen, damn it. Even when we were at the subway station, I knew it.
But it’s hard to push him away when he’s so damned good at making me smile. And the abs don’t help at all. “That’s cute that you think I need help opening pickle jars.”
“I should have known you’d have that under control. The longer I spend with you, the more I’m learning that you’re not quite the typical recent college graduate.”
The reminder of our age gap helps to build a bit of that resolve. He may be hot and funny, but that doesn’t mean that I should act like this. “Come on, boss. Let’s get the couch made up for you. I don’t want you to miss any creature comforts. I hear that making the owner of your company shiver himself to sleep is bad for my quarterly review.”
As I walk past him, he stops me by putting his hand on my shoulder. “Addison,” he says softly.
I turn around, the hand on my shoulder radiating a warmth that’s almost shocking. “Addison, I promise that I’ll uphold the conditions of our roommate agreement. There’s nothing you could do that I’d bring to the office. If I don’t like something about this little arrangement, I’ll just leave and go back to sleeping on tables. Or crawl back to my father if it’s really that bad. I doubt either of those will happen, though.”
“I know,” I say a little too quietly. The way he’s touching me, the closeness, it’s making my body throb in ways that I’ve forgotten. “But Phillip, you living with me is weird. It makes me nervous, and I’m sorry, but I tend to get a little sarcastic when I’m nervous.”
He chuckles. “That’s fine. I just wanted to be clear that the lines are drawn, and I always uphold an agreement.”
His hand moves away, and for a moment, our eyes meet, and it’s like time slows down. I’d normally be focused on that playful grin or the lines on his shoulders where his muscles come together. Or the little strip of hair that runs between his abs.
I can’t turn away, though. Those dark eyes pull me in like pools of shadows, teasing hidden secrets. Maybe it’s not just me that has a past they don’t want to talk about. Maybe I’m not the only one with scars.
“Let’s get my luxury suite set up,” he says, taking a step back. “You know, if the Atrium ever wants to upgrade, they could stop by and take some notes. I haven’t seen luxury like this since I stayed at Buckingham Palace.”
“I offered my interior design advice, but they disagreed with the idea of garage sale sofas,” I say as I go back to throwing the old afghan onto the couch. It may not be the warmest blanket in the world with all the little holes in the crochet, but it’s one of the few things I have from my childhood. My nana made it when my mom was a kid. I remember sitting at her house and watching Murder She Wrote while she crocheted. And always, I’d be sitting on her couch with that afghan over my legs.
Those were some of the best memories I have of my childhood.
“You know, a week ago I’d have looked down on sleeping on a garage sale sofa, but living in a storage room gave me some perspective. Maybe this experiment isn’t as bad an idea as everyone seems to think it is.”
I smile at him but try not to get trapped in his gaze. I need to take some time to remind myself that my walls are there for a reason. That Phillip Loughton is the definition of a bad decision, and there’s no doubt that he’ll be nothing but a weird memory in a month.
Tossing the pillows on top of the afghan, I say, “Maybe. A little perspective never hurt anybody.”
He looks at me with a grin. “You know, our night at the Neptune Motel really has come full circle. Except one thing.”
“I offered you my couch,” I say, but even I can hear my voice cracking a little. Looking at him as he towers over me, wearing shorts that barely cover those muscular thighs and nothing else, I know I’m on the verge of giving into everything that my body wants.
But how am I supposed to convince my vagina that those muscles and that hair are anything but wonderful?
Phillip chuckles and shakes his head. “Oh, sharing a bed? No, I was talking about how you had to sleep in soaking wet bottoms. Jeez, woman. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Do you… want me to pour water on your crotch, or what?”
As I say it, I glance down at the tight little athletic shorts, and I can’t ignore the outline of his cock against them. Or how it’s beginning to swell.
