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Kennedy Takahashi
“Ladies first,” Connor says as he deposits me on my feet outside the bathroom doorway. “I’ll get ready for bed after you.”
“Thanks.” I grab my nightshirt and slip into the tiny bathroom, where I wash up and brush my teeth, all the while shaking my head in dismay. I’m nervous. Last night, Connor and I slept together, but it was spontaneous. Tonight, if it happens again, it won’t be. It’ll be a conscious choice.
Thinking back to last night, I recall how it felt to have his mouth on me. God, it was so good. We fell right back into step with each other like no time had passed at all. Like those five years apart didn’t exist.
But they do exist, I keep reminding myself. We’re different people now. I’m older, and I’d like to think I’m wiser, but that remains to be seen. Connor has certainly grown up—holy cow, has he! He’s more confident now. He’s more mature and a bit less snarky, although I can’t say the same for myself.
There’s a quiet knock on the bathroom door. “I hope you saved some hot water for me.”
That’s right—Connor likes to shower at night before bed. “Yes, there’s plenty of hot water. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“I don’t wear panties, Ken,” he says in a low voice.
Hearingthosewords come out of his mouth in his sexy British accent sends shivers down my spine.
After changing into my pajamas, I open the bathroom door, and of course he’s standing right there in only his trousers, which hang low on his trim waist. My gaze goes straight to his dark blond happy trail, which disappears beneath his waistband.
I’m dressed in an old New York Yankees baseball souvenir T-shirt that barely reaches my thighs and a pair of pink panties. “It’s all yours,” I say as I slip out of the bathroom.
Connor’s hands come to rest on my waist, and he captures me in the doorway, the two of us standing so close I can feel the heat of his body, not to mention the heat of his gaze on me. “I missed this—the two of us living together in close quarters, sharing the small, quiet moments.”
I can feel my face heating, along with the rest of me. I have no doubt what we’ll be doing tonight in my bed. “There’s a clean towel and washcloth on the shelf over the toilet,” I say distractedly. “Help yourself to whatever you need.”
“Oh, I plan to,” he mutters.
I grin as I slip away, letting him have the bathroom. “Then you’d better hurry up.”
I swear I hear him chuckle as I head across the room to turn down the bed.
The shower comes on, and I hear him humming to himself as if he hasn’t a care in the world. I guess if you’re a freaking billionaire many times over, you don’t have many.
I, on the other hand, have a huge problem to deal with—my apartment having been sold. I’m not worried about myself. It’s Mrs. Philbin and Ms. Talisman, and all the other residents on fixed incomes who live in this building who concern me. With how high rents are in New York these days, I can’t imagine they’ll be able to find something affordable in such a short time.
As for me, right now I don’t know what the future holds. Now that it looks like we’re back together, I assume I’ll be moving back to London soon. We haven’t talked about it yet, but Connor is a big deal at Carmichael & Son. Hell, he’s a big deal in all of England. I love my job at Wentner, and Jamal’s been so good to me, mentoring me and preparing me for a promotion. I’ll hate to leave, but it’s a small price to pay to be back with Connor.
After getting a drink of water in the kitchen, I turn off all of the lights except for the small lamp on the bedside table. Then I slip beneath the sheet and quilt and lean against my pillow propped up against the headboard.
The water shuts off, and then I don’t hear anything until the bathroom door opens, letting out a waft of warm, humid air. Connor switches off the bathroom light and makes his way over toward the bed, skillfully sidestepping the sofa in the near darkness without bumping his toes.
Before he turned off the light, I caught a quick glimpse of him in a pair of charcoal gray boxers, and the sight made my pulse race. I also got a quick peek at his chest, dusted with dark blond chest hair, and his broad shoulders. And those arms! His lean muscles make my head spin.
I swallow hard, and my mouth goes dry.
Connor walks around to the other side of the bed. There’s barely enough room for him to walk between the bed and the wall. “Sorry,” I say. “I know it’s a tight fit.”
He gives me a devious look. “Let’s not discuss tight fits at the moment, okay? Wait until I’m safely in bed.”
I snort out a laugh. “Oh, my god, Connor. You did not just say that.”
He shrugs as he climbs into bed and slips beneath the covers. “Well, I did notice how snug you were last night. It was kind of hard not to.” Like me, he props a pillow against the headboard and leans against it. He presses his palms on the mattress. “Nice bed. Very comfortable.” His expression turns serious. “You like it here, don’t you? With your terribly small apartment and the little old ladies in your building. And your family live nearby, don’t they?”
I nod. “I like the life I’ve built here, yes. I love my job at Wentner. I’m up for a big promotion this fall. And I have friends there. Lauren in the graphic design department, for one. I love New York, especially Brooklyn.” I shrug, suddenly feeling torn. I miss London, yes, but I’d miss New York if I left it. But I want to be with Connor. “What are we going to do?”
Connor takes my hand and links our fingers. “What doyouwant to do?”
“I know one thing—I want to be with you. I assumed you’d be going back to London soon, and if I want to be with you, I’ll have to go, too.” Oh, god. Maybe I’m reading too much into this. Maybe he hadn’t planned on me going back with him. “Never mind.”
