I couldn’t stop thinking about what other activities would have her looking the same way. Hands shoved into my sweatpants pockets, I warded off thoughts of Sabrina as anything other than someone horning in on my private space. Now was not the time for me to be horning out. If someone could let my dick know, that would be awesome.
Walking to the end of the hallway, I kept my face stony.
The front door creaked. “That’s everything. It was nice meeting you, Sabrina,” Ian called out from the front door. His gaze was firmly locked on to Sabrina’s ample, made-for-riding ass.
I shook my head.
“Bye, Ian,” I called to him.
His gaze darted to mine, at least looking somewhat embarrassed. “Oh, bye, Hunter.” He closed the door behind him.
I’d been living in this place for four years. A pretty girl shows up and all his loyalty, secured with vintage whiskey, disappeared with a bat of her dark lashes.
Finished fiddling with her Jenga tower, she stood and faced me. “Sorry to dump all this here, but you ran off without telling me which room was mine, so…”
Biting back a growl, I spun on my heel and walked back down the hall. I made it five steps before I realized she wasn’t following. “Are you coming or what?”
She gave a small yelp and rushed forward.
I turned the knob on the first doorway and pushed it open. “This is your room.” I added the “for now” in a mumble she didn’t seem to notice. Arm extended, I sucked in a breath when she brushed past me, her shoulder grazing against my chest. A blooming warmth spread across my skin, even through my t-shirt. Her floral, sweet smell filled my nostrils, and I locked my knees. My head was playing tricks on me. That was what less than a couple hours sleep did. It fucked with your head and made you see and feel things that weren’t really there.
“Wow, it’s gorgeous.” Her eyes lit up, and she looked around, taking it all in. “A queen-size bed. That’s perfect.” She clapped her fingertips together and tapped her two pointer fingers against her lips.
Her cheeks were still flushed. A sprinkle of freckles dotted her skin across the tops of her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. “And I have my own bathroom.” She rushed toward it, her shoulders dipping a little with a barely audible “aw.”
“What’s wrong?”
Spinning, she shook her head. “Nothing. It’s perfect.”
“Stop doing that. My grandmother’s not here. And I’m not into playing the good, nice-girl game. Say what you’re thinking.” The bark had more bite than I’d intended, and I immediately felt like a dick.
She jumped before her expression shifted to narrow gazed, lip locked, pissed off. “Sorry for not complaining like an asshole about the free place I’ve been given to live in with only a couple days’ notice. Some people work hard not to be jerks and never put people out.”
“Listen, I don’t want you here.” I gritted my teeth. “But it’s not my choice to make. It’s my grandmother’s place, so she sets the rules. The apartment is big enough for both of us. We can stay out of each other’s way.” Having her in my space had me on edge. My throat was still raw from last night’s attempt at sleeping. I’d hoped to get a few hours today before I left for the night. Now it was looking less and less likely. Relaxing would be impossible with her here.
“When you put it that way, it makes me wonder how good you are at keeping this”—she circled her finger in my direction—“version of yourself from your grandmother, because I’m trying to figure out where the kind, good-natured, would-do-anything-for-anyone, exceedingly handsome version of that guy is. I mean…” She folded her arms across her chest, pushing her breasts up with a jiggle under her shirt. “You’ve certainly got the handsome part nailed. I can’t even lie about that, but man, you’ve got those asshole tendencies sharpened to a fine point.” Leaning in, she stage-whispered with her hand beside her mouth. “Was that enough of me saying what I was thinking, or would you prefer I be more blunt?”
Feisty. And I couldn’t say I didn’t deserve it. I shoved my hand into my hair. Damn, I was tired and when I got tired, I got cranky, but I was usually able to work through that on my own. Now I had a roommate. I dropped back into the hallway and walked away without checking to see if she followed. “I’ll show you the rest of the apartment.”
Her footsteps trailed behind me, close enough to clip my heels like a fourth grader. Was she doing this on purpose?
I glanced over my shoulder.
She glanced around at the ceiling like crown molding had never been more interesting.
“This is my office.” I pointed at the open door showing the desk with the jar of chocolate spread taunting me.
“Do you mean the office?” Peeking her head inside, she scanned the room.
The nervous, twitchy energy raced across my skin.
“And this is my room.”
She shoved her head inside before I could close the door. “Oh, you have—”
“I have what?” My sheets were ripped off my bed, still probably sweaty, soggy. I pulled the door closed, nearly squashing her head.
“A…a wonderful view.”
“Both rooms are off-limits.” I needed to clean all my sheets before the sweaty stench took over the whole apartment and Sabrina started to wonder if she was living in a gym locker room. Although that wouldn’t be the worst way to get her to not want to stay. Decisions, decisions.
“Always the gentleman,” she grumbled under her breath.
Turning, careful not to brush against her, I walked back down the hallway to the living room with the sixty-five-inch TV. The green and gray couch was so comfortable I’d fallen asleep there and woken before rolling off and nearly cracking my head on the edge of the coffee table. The knitted blue afghan draped over the back called to me now to put my head down on it and close my eyes.
I snapped them both open.
We walked through the formal dining room, which I’d barely used outside of “board meetings” for work, the breakfast nook with an eat-in four-seater table, and the galley kitchen with a six-burner Viking range and Shaker cabinets where I’d stocked an obscene number of coffee beans, not to mention the ones in the freezer. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned on the faucet and beans spilled out into the farmhouse sink. Sometimes it felt like the only thing I drank.
“This kitchen is beautiful.” She wandered closer to the cabinets.
My heart rate spiked. So much coffee and Red Bull filled the cabinets.
She’d think I was a psycho.
“Do you like to cook?” She pulled one open.
I rushed across the room and slammed it shut with my flattened palm. “That one down there can be yours.” The skinny cabinet beside the stove wasn’t filled with anything more than expired spices.
“There’s that unrivaled hospitality I’ve been told about.”
“You’re the one invading my space, remember? Do you need more kitchen space than that?”
She jolted.
Once again, my bite was sharper and more exacting than I’d meant it to be.
“Am I allowed to use the sink or fridge or will I have to drink out of my bathroom sink and store my food out on the balcony during winter?”