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I havegotto get out of here before I do something stupid, like take my underwear off and sit on top of him.
“I’m going to have a shower,” I manage, scampering across the room toward the bathroom door.
He shoots me that lazy, panty-melting grin, gaze dropping to my bare legs and probably part of my ass, visible from under the t-shirt, and there’s another warm squeeze between my legs. “Want company?”
With his towering height in my tiny shower? “We wouldn’t fit.”
His grin turns feral and smug. “We’d make it fit.”
Heat streaks through me, and my mind whispersjust one timeas my gaze lands on his straining erection again.
It would be so good with him. I know it would.
I don’t sleep with guys I know, though. I hook up once and then we part ways. I definitely don’t hook up with guys who I’m fake dating or hanging out with on a regular basis or who will be the best man in my sister’s wedding.
I slam the door closed and lean against the inside, collecting my common sense.
* * *
My blood pumps hard as I walk up to my apartment, catching my breath after my run. Moving usually helps clear my head, but today, my thoughts still slingshot around my brain.
This thing with Rory is getting away from me. We can be friends, but we can’t be more, no matter how my body responds to him, or how I feel when he lights up like he’s actually having fun for once.
I need to remember what this is for him: a chase. He wants what he can’t have, and the second he gets it, I’m old news.
“Hazel Hartley?”
Two guys wait outside my building. A delivery van is parked on the street. “That’s me.”
“Delivery for you.” He hands his electronic tablet to me. “Sign here.”
My eyes narrow. “I didn’t order anything.”
The guy glances at the tablet. “Charges went to Rory Miller.”
Of course they did. I sign the tablet, and while the delivery guys unload a new mattress and bed frame from the truck, I pull out my phone and call him.
Rory answers the phone a moment later, as I’m holding the front door open for the guys.
“Seriously?” I ask in lieu of greeting.
“You are so welcome.”
I don’t know whether to scream or laugh as I climb the stairs after them. He doesn’t seem weird about this morning, so that’s good. I can pretend if he can. “I can hear your stupid smug grin through the phone.”
“I’m not sleeping on that lumpy old mattress again.”
My mouth falls open in shock. “You’re not sleeping on the new one, either.”
Especially not after this morning.
“Hartley, I gotta go. The plane’s going to take off soon.”
“What am I supposed to—”
“The guys will take the old bed.” There’s an airport announcement in the background. “I’ll call you when we land.”
I stare at the disconnected call. That dick hung up on me.
