“Food’s here,” Warren says from the doorway. He leans up against it. He undid the top couple of buttons of his shirt and rolled his sleeves up. For once he looks relaxed, and it makes him even more handsome than he already is.
I don’t think sleeping with him would be hard for any woman to do. I think it would be the self-hate that came in the morning that would be hard to deal with. Plus, I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing in that department and I would probably be terrible at it. I can’t believe I’m even having to consider any of this.
“Awesome. I’m hungry.” I push back from the desk.
He doesn't move out of the doorway, so I have to slide past him. He stops me, his hand slipping up the bottom of my shirt. His fingers rub my skin back and forth, causing my skin to get goosebumps. His eyes are all over my mouth. I lick my suddenly dry lips.
I swear he looks as though he’s going to kiss me. I find myself leaning into him, wanting the kiss. My stomach lets out a loud growl, and I’m not sure if I want to curse it or thank it for interrupting us, but he smiles.
“Let’s get some food in you.”
I nod my head because I can’t seem to get a single word out. He removes his hand and grabs mine to lead me down the hall. I haven’t had a chance to look around so I take in what I can as we head toward the kitchen.
His house reminds me of one of those staged homes. Everything matches, and you can tell none of it is cheap. But there are no other personal touches anywhere. It almost seems lonely in here. Something I’m all too familiar with.
“I didn't know what you’d like.” He motions to the kitchen island that is covered in takeout containers from multiple places. “If you don’t want any of this, I can try again,” he offers. Why is he suddenly being so sweet and nice to me?
“No, this is more than enough.”
He pulls out one of the high-top stools for me to sit on.
“Drink?”
“Water is fine.” He hands me a plate and a bottle of water. I start filling my plate. “This kitchen is killer. How do you manage not to cook in it?” My mom would have died for this kitchen.
“Never been my thing. It’s only me, and I tend to get home late most nights.” He starts to fill his own plate. “You don’t get to cook where you’re staying.”
“I live on vending machine food,” I tease, but it’s not really a joke.
“Are you serious?” He sees right through me, making me wonder what else he can freaking see. I just shrug. “You should stay here.” I almost choke on the French fries I’m shoving into my mouth like a starved person. He hands me my water to take a drink.
“You’re crazy.” I shake my head. “And confusing.”
“It makes sense. I have all this room. I can easily take you back and forth to work. That’s logical, not crazy.”
“Two problems there.” I hold up my fingers. “You have a girlfriend, and did you forget you don’t like the look of me?”
A sheepish look crosses his face. “She’s a friend. We went to college together.”
“Oh. That kind of friend?”
“What does that mean?” His eyebrows pull together. Oh my God. He looks adorable when he’s confused. I’m guessing that doesn’t happen much.
“A friend with benefits.” He is still not putting it together. “You sleep together but no messy strings.”
“She’s not my type, and I most certainly am not her type. It's one of the reasons we get along so well. She’s not trying to get her claws into me.” He has no reason to lie, and well, I really shouldn't care if he has a girlfriend or not. I should hope he does so I could ruin their relationship. Still, the irritation I was feeling melts away.
“You’re everyone's type.” I stab a piece of sweet and sour chicken with my fork.
“Is that so?” A cocky grin lights up his face. I roll my eyes and swallow my food.
“You know you are. You just said women are trying to get their claws into you.”
“You’re not.” He picks up a piece of the chicken with chopsticks and brings it to my mouth. I open and take it, fighting the warm feeling around my heart. If he only knew that I’m trying to do far worse than get my claws into him. “So you’ll stay.”
I should be jumping at this opportunity. If Chris knew I turned this down, he'd lose his shit. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. He’s doing something to me, and I need to keep some space between us. Problem is what I need to get done would be better with no space. He stares at me, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t like the look of you because you’re distracting.” I open my mouth and then close it. “I don’t care for distractions. Or I didn’t before you.” There’s that dangerous, warm feeling again. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I know it’s Chris, so I ignore it.
“Okay,” I agree.
This is either my best move or my worst. Only time will tell.
Chapter Ten
Warren
“Whoever made up work from home should be brought to the town square and be stoned,” I growl into the computer microphone.
“We don’t have town squares,” chirps Connor. He has a shirt and tie on, but I can only see his shoulders, so I bet he is wearing sweatpants. My assistant has never been happier.
“Then let’s bring them back.” I’m putting him in the center too for being so fucking cheerful.
“You were the one who sent us all home,” he reminds me.
“You sound like you want to be fired.”
He whips two fingers across his lips in a zipping motion. Mmop me, he mouths with his lips firmly shut.
“Yeah, you.” It was my idea, and at first blush, it seemed genius. I remove Leila from a zone of danger and place her under my personal dome of security, also known as my house. Here, I would be able to spend time with her uninterrupted. This is ultimately the biggest problem.
She’s distracting. I can’t get anything done because I’m thinking about whether she’s feeling warm or not hot enough, whether she’s hungry or I should make a food run, whether she’s sucking on the end of her pen because it’s a habit or she’s fantasizing about her mouth around my dick.
It’s probably a habit but fuck, her lips would look pretty stretched over my cock with her tits out and her hand buried between her legs. I wonder how long it would take to get her to come. Does she heat up fast or does it take some time to stoke her fires? I’m happy either way.
“Was there something you needed?” Connor prompts.
I start at the sound of his voice. I’d completely forgotten I was on the phone with my assistant. “Sorry. Got distracted there for a moment. Look, we need to wrap up the loose ends on the Mason business. From my review, it appears there are some outstanding liabilities and that there might even be additional ownership issues we need to clear up before we can fix that project. One of the lease agreements identifies an heir. Let’s track him down, pay him off, and move on.”
“On it.”
“Send over the Le Monde portfolio too.”