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My problem is, I don’t understand exactly what our relationship is. He said we’re dating. Doesn’t that mean we’retogether—as in girlfriend and boyfriend? And yet we have separate bedrooms. He’s affectionate—he puts his arms around me, and he’s kissed me before—but lately it’s been platonic between us.
He’s not truly interested in you. Trophy fuck, remember? How many times do I have to say it?
Jason casually pulls out his phone and studies the screen. “Your sugar level is getting low. We need to eat soon.” He opens the pantry door and digs around until he finds a single-serving little bag of Skittles. He rips open the pouch and pours the brightly-colored candies into my hand. “That should tide you over. How about we go grab some dinner and then go grocery shopping?”
I pop one of the candies into my mouth and chew. “Sounds good.” It’s perfect timing as I’m starting to feel a bit woozy.
We leave the apartment and take the elevator down to the parking garage. As we step out of the car, he reaches for my hand and pulls me close as he walks me to the car.
Before I slide into my seat, he gives me a friendly peck on the cheek. Is this typical for boyfriends and girlfriends? Honestly, I wouldn’t know because I’ve never had one before. It just seems awfully… platonic.
That’s because he’s not really into you. Why can’t you get that into your thick skull?
Chapter 37
Jason Miller
Cohabitating with Layla is turning out to be a helluva lot harder than I ever imagined. Being so close to her, just the two of us in such tight quarters, with no chaperones, no parents under our roof, no staff, no one to walk in on us is pure torture.
I’m doing my best to keep my hands to myself, but it’s not easy. I have to fight the constant urge to reach for her. Hell, to touch her the way I want to. Tokissher the way I need to. I don’t dare do any of these things because one thing would lead to another, and then we’d be sliding down a slippery slope.
We started off as client and bodyguard, and we quickly became friends, which led to tiptoeing into boyfriend/girlfriend territory, and now we’re living together.Under one roof.Granted, we’ll be sleeping in different bedrooms. But I honestly don’t know how I’m going to handle this.
I’m trying to do the right thing by her; I’m trying to take things slowly. She’s hardly been kissed. She’s sure as hell not ready for sex. And I refuse to do anything that might set her back emotionally. I don’t want to rush her. This needs to happen at her pace, when she’s ready for more. I’ll just have to take my cues from her.
We end up grabbing a quick bite at a sub shop that’s located right next to the grocery store. Then we hit the grocery store, which turns out to be a rather entertaining experience for me. I struggle to keep a straight face as I watch her attempt to navigate the workings of the fresh produce department. Clearly, she’s never set foot in a grocery store in her life. And why should she? She’s grown up withstaffdoing everything for the family, including the food shopping.
When she stops and stares at a bin of tomatoes, I stand quietly at her side and observe, curious as to how this is going to go. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask for help, doesn’t ask any questions. She just stands there watching. When a guy walks up to the bin and pulls a produce bag off the reel, she observes him closely as he selects a few tomatoes, puts them in the bag, and ties the bag closed. She’s practically taking notes like she’s studying for a quiz.
When the guy walks away, she copies his actions. Then she turns to me with a grin on her face, and I swear to god, I want to give her a gold star for effort.
“That wasn’t so hard,” she says as she sets the tomatoes in our shopping cart. “What else do we need? Onions? Potatoes?”
I nod. “And lettuce.”
“And cucumbers and carrots,” she says. “We can make a salad.”
“We should also get you some low-carb snacks to keep in the apartment.”
I stand back and watch her select the rest of our produce with the same degree of scrutiny that one would use when buying a car. She’s so damn serious, it’s sexy as hell. And also very endearing.
Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so. I’ve noticed several guys checking her out. Finally, one of them has the balls to approach her. A yuppie corporate guy in a suit walks up beside her as she’s examining the avocados. He’s standing close enough that his arm brushes hers—accidently, I’m sure.Yeah, right.
Immediately, my territorial instincts kick in, but instead of barging in between them, I wait and watch. She seems completely oblivious to his interest, but I catch him sneaking glances her way. I can’t really blame him—I’d be checking her out too if I were him. But still—not cool, pal.
“So, what are you making?” he asks her, as he nods to our grocery cart.
“I was thinking tacos,” she answers.
“I love Mexican food,” he says. “I could eat it every day. What’s your favorite Mexican restaurant around here? I’m new to the area and still trying to find my way around.”
Oh, no you don’t, buddy.
Having heard enough, I step up behind her, put my arms around her waist, and pull her back against my chest.Yeah, I’m staking my claim. Damn right I am.“Hi, honey. Find what you’re looking for?”
She smiles back at me. “I think so. How about tacos for dinner tomorrow?”
“Sounds perfect.”
