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Jocelin laughs again. “Is that a good thing?”
I nod and step closer. “Very.”
7
Jocelin
Ibrushmyhanddown the front of Gunnar’s dress shirt, enjoying the feel of the pure linen weave under my palm. “So, that’s the whole place. Just enough space for me without feeling too big.” The silence hangs in the air, and I look into his eyes. That’s my first mistake because I’m sucked into their warm depths with no way to escape. When did we get so close? My god, his cologne smells so good, all woodsy and clean, and I want to press my nose to his neck and breathe him in. It wouldn’t take much effort. We could be chest to chest, hip to hip, lips to lips if I just lean in. From there, it would be a matter of a few steps to the bed, andmon dieu, if this simmering heat is any indication, I know we’d burn up the sheets. But while I very much want that, I alsolikeGunnar, and I’d prefer to get to know him. Which, I remind myself sternly, is the whole point of bringing him here in the first place. Well, not here in my bedroom, but here, to my apartment.
With regret so strong I have to force back a whimper, I let my hand drop and take a step back. Hopefully a bit of distance will dilute whatever pheromones he’s dousing me with, because right now, they’re sorely tempting me to throw caution to the wind and see how quickly I can undress him and get him into my bed. I take his hand and lead him back downstairs. “So should we have a seat and start grilling each other for details?”
Gunnar gives my hand a squeeze, and I look over my shoulder at him. He’s smirking like he knows the whole convoluted thought process I just went through. Handsome bastard. “Sure. Are there any off-limits topics?”
Good question. I take a moment to think about that and can’t come up with anything I wouldn’t answer. “Not that I can think of, but I reserve the right to change my mind and would completely respect your choice not to answer any question if it makes you uncomfortable.”
He drops onto the sofa, and I sit next to him, ignoring the little voice in my head suggesting more space between us is a good idea. “Why don’t we take it one question at a time, and if we aren’t comfortable answering, we can just say that.”
“Perfect. Do you want to go first?”
Gunnar rubs his thumb across my knuckles distractingly and shakes his head. “You can.”
Now that I need to ask something, my mind goes blank, and I can’t think of any of the million questions I want to know the answers to. Purely to break the ice, I ask something easy. “You grew up in Duval. Right?”
He nods. “Yeah. Out near where Erik and Jules live. After mom was killed, and we found out about the inheritance and the house on Yarrow Point, we moved there. Well, we moved after Astrid and I graduated from high school. Bjorn used those six months to fix up the house since it’d been sitting vacant for years.”
I squeeze his hand and look into his eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Astrid told me what happened.” It’s all I say because I don’t want to open old wounds. I can’t imagine the horror of being restrained mere feet away while my mother bled out on the sidewalk. I’d have been as messed up as Gunnar was.
He nods and squeezes my hand in return. “Thanks.” That’s all he says, and I don’t push. We don’t know each otherthatwell. “Anyway, I opted to live at home while I went to UW for architecture.” His mouth twists into a smirk. “Why live in a dorm and share a room with a stranger when you can live in luxury?” He grins, but the smile doesn’t quite make it to his eyes. “So, how about you? Where did you grow up?”
“Montreal. I moved to the States for university when I was eighteen, and I’ve been here ever since.”
Gunnar’s eyes brighten, and he latches onto the change in subject like a lifeline. “What university did you go to?”
“I received my undergrad from Cornell, but I, too, am a University of Washington alum. That’s where I earned my JD.”
Gunnar frowns. “JD?”
“Sorry, Juris Doctor. It’s a law degree.”
He looks puzzled. “And you came to Washington for that? I don’t know much about which law schools are good, but even I know Cornell is an incredible school. Why not get your degree there?”
I rub my forehead and wince. “UWisa great school, in an area of the country I love, and it isveryfar away from Montreal and my parents.”
Gunnar laughs. “Ah. I see. You don’t get along with them?”
I smirk and nudge his calf with my foot. “That’s your second or third question. You’re not following the rules.” The bastard tilts his head down and looks at me through his very dark, very thick lashes. Warmth floods through me, and he’s far too adorable like this to resist. “Fine. I’ll answer, but I may exercise my right to pepper in a few extra questions of my own later on.”
“Deal.” Gunnar grins, obviously pleased that I’ve caved to his charms. I think this might be a frequent thing, if we are around each other often.
I choose my words carefully, trying to avoid any overly dramatic implications. “My parents and I are very close. But they are… I think clingy is the best way to describe it. I’m an only child by their choice, and they doted on me.” I roll my eyes. “What am I saying? They still would if I gave them the least encouragement. At any rate, they would make unannounced visits, expect me to drop everything, and be quite upset if I prioritized class or homework over them. It was in my best interest to make it a little more challenging for them to drop by.” I squeeze his hand. “So, you went to the University of Washington for architecture.” Gunnar nods. “How did you end up working for MRB?”
He winks. “Luck. A friend of mine used to work for one of the big architectural firms here in Seattle, and he helped me get an internship there. When I graduated, they weren’t hiring, so I took a job at a smaller firm and got some experience. My plan was to stay there a few years and then reapply at the bigger company once they had an opening. Then some shit went down, and my friend left to form MRB with Tadhg and Quinn. When they were ready to bring on a new architect, he told me to apply.” Gunnar sits up a little taller. “I had to earn the position. They didn’t just give it to me because I know Tom.” Somehow, I think this is a sore spot for him, and I file that away. “And there was no way I could pass up the opportunity to work with Tadhg Byrne. The guy’s a legend.”
“Pleasedon’t tell him that. Ever. It will go straight to his head, and Quinn will never forgive you.”
Gunnar grins, edging a bit closer on the couch, brushing his fingertips along the back of my hand, sending delicious tingles up my arm. This is nice. I like having him in my space. I like being with him, talking about lots of little things. I likehim. And I would not mind doing this again. Lost in my thoughts, I almost miss his question. “So, if you’re friends with Tadhg, do you know ASL?”
“Yes. Mygrand-mèrewas Deaf. She lived with us when I was growing up, and LSQ was our primary way of communicating at home. In the Montreal Deaf community, there are a lot of people who communicate in LSQ and ASL, just like many hearing people in the region speak both Quebecois and English. So I learned both.”
