Home > Trust Me

Trust Me
Author: Grahame Claire

Chapter One

 

 

Baker

 

 

“Damn it, Baker. If you don’t hurry up, I’m getting in that shower with you.”

The warning came from the other side of the bathroom door, low and feral.

“Door’s locked. And the more you distract me, the longer I’ll be.” I smiled to myself, leisurely rinsing the conditioner out of my hair.

“I can’t be late again or I’ll be fired.”

“What do you need a shower for anyway? Three minutes after you get there, you’ll stink like motor oil.” Somebody should bottle that stuff. Or maybe it was just the combination of Holt and grease that had me in knots.

“Three . . .”

“Five more minutes. That’s all I need.” I bit my lip to stifle my laugh.

“Woman.”

Scratch that. Ten more minutes. To get myself off and bask in the aftermath.

“Grease Monkey,” I called back. My face hurt from the smile splitting it in two.

Over the noise of the shower, the door knob rattled a few times. He wasn’t coming in. Holt was too much of gentleman for that. I’d blatantly strolled into the kitchen a few times in only a towel, just to see if I could rile him. Every damn time, he looked everywhere but at me and scampered like his ass was on fire.

Crack. Split. Wham.

I jumped at the sound of destruction. Through the steam of the glass shower, a shadow stalked toward me.

Holt yanked open the door, threw me over his shoulder, soap suds and all, and hauled me into the bedroom.

“You jackass. I’m soapy.”

He tossed me onto the center of the bed. I bounced twice, opened my mouth, then snapped it shut at the heat in his eyes as they roved down my naked body.

“I warned you.” He spun and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. It boomeranged off the broken frame and opened wide.

I stared at the space in stunned disbelief. Had he really just taken me from the shower? Anger spiked, sharp and deep, propelling me off the bed.

I stomped into the bathroom and threw open the shower door. “Oh, hell no.”

I grabbed his wrist and tugged. He stumbled, caught off guard, and steadied himself on the wall behind me. Pinned between the tile and his solid body, I stopped breathing. Fury blazed at me while I tried to pretend like I hadn’t just seen the most perfect ass God ever sculpted.

“I wasn’t finished,” I snapped once I figured out how to breathe again.

“Then you should have been more considerate.” His breath was hot as he spit the words at me.

“You can’t go breaking down doors and dictating how long I shower.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t take all damn day.” His shoulders rose and fell in fractured movements.

I pushed at this chest. “It’s still my turn.”

“The hell it is.” He didn’t budge, leaving his hand braced above my head.

I hadn’t let go of his wrist like I was welded to him. At the realization, I released him and immediately felt the loss.

He inched his face closer to mine. My lips tingled, swelled in anticipation for him to touch me. Thunder ricocheted inside my chest.

Kiss me.

Kiss me.

Kiss me.

Horror filled me at the thought, my eyes growing wide.

Don’t kiss me.

Don’t kiss me.

Don’t kiss me.

I panicked. He was my roommate. We’d both already crossed a line this morning. I’d been too blinded with rage to realize it until now . . . when I was breathing in his air with his body pressed against mine. And we’re both completely naked. Shit.

“You don’t seem like you’re in a hurry now.” I’d meant it to come out as an insult. Instead, I might as well have asked him to come back to bed with me.

Eyes locked.

Chests heaved.

Something thick and potent swirled between us, so strong it was suffocating.

My head fell back against the tile. The irritation disintegrated to a near non-existent level. What was left of me felt exhausted and weak.

He eased closer until our lips were mere millimeters apart. “Tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Every day from here on out. I go first. You feel me, Easy?”

“Easy?” I shoved at him with all my strength, but it was useless. “How dare you say such a thing to me? You don’t know if I’m easy or not.” Just like that, the anger was back, exploding from my pores.

He grinned and lowered his arm to keep me caged as I tried to duck underneath. “Easy On The Eyes.”

The first time he’d called me that I’d wanted to crawl in his lap and beg him to do again. Something about the way he said it made me want to purr and rub up against him, and I freaking hated cats.

“I’m going to be late for work,” I huffed. I had no idea what time it was and, at this point, wasn’t sure I really cared.

“Totally your fault.” He planted his hands on my hips, and I jolted from the fire that shot through me.

With ease, he lifted me and set me outside the shower on the plush bath mat. He shut the glass door, and I stood there dripping wet and staring.

“I need some privacy,” he called, drawing GO AWAY with his finger in the steam. “And you left me no hot water.”

I let out a scream of frustration and got right back into the shower with him. I plowed around him, careful not to touch his wet skin as I muscled my way under the water to wash off what was left of the soap clinging to me.

He slipped around me until he monopolized the stream of now lukewarm water. It cascaded down his body. I was rapt as he slicked his hair back with both hands, this my own personal men’s body wash commercial. Except live and in the flesh was so much better.

How many times was he going to stop me in my tracks in one morning?

I fought the urge to open my dry mouth and gulp down gallons of water. I couldn’t move anyway. Holt reached around me and grabbed the soap, running it over every plane of his body as my eyes followed along. Forget my own honey body wash. I was so using his soap tomorrow.

“Thought you were gonna be late?” he drawled, rinsing the lucky suds off.

One found resistance as it slid down his pec to his nipple. How had I missed how tan he was? No farmer tan, either. Did park rangers chop wood without their shirts? In the fantasy that had popped into my mind they did. It was easy to picture his sweat-slicked body when he was soaking wet right in front of me.

That’s how he got those thick biceps. Hard labor. Or rock climbing. Definitely rock climbing. Not the gym.

I hummed my approval as my gaze drifted down cut abs to the defined V—my field of view blurred until blue eyes met mine.

Holt kept a firm grip of my chin. “I said I thought you were going to be late.”

I shrugged one shoulder, darting a quick glance between us. Couldn’t see a darn thing past his chest. And I’d almost gotten to the good part.

“Get enough of a look?”

Heat flooded me. This morning had not gone to plan at all. Not that I’d had one, but if I had, it wouldn’t have been this.

“Might want to see about getting that door fixed.” His eyes flared a fraction before he strode out of the shower.

“I thought you were the handyman,” I called after him. Apparently, my voice did still work.

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