No more getting deep in her business, helping her look for whatever it is her gramps left behind now that we’ve scoured the attic. I’m sure she can reach the other places in the house.
No more getting too close.
No fucking more fantasizing about ripping her clothes off while I take my teeth to her skin, marking her from head to toe.
Good luck.
Not sure I can control that one when she’s around, looking like a wet dream made flesh, but I can try.
And if sharing an isolated house with a beautiful woman and onlyoccasionallygetting hard to dirty thoughts about her is the worst of it, that’s a victory.
As long as it doesn’t become reality.
From the relief in her eyes, she knows it, too.
We don’t need to drag this out when we’re on the same page.
Dan almost walking in on us mid-kiss was the wake-up call we needed.
“All right, I have some reading to do,” I say, jerking my thumb at the door and stepping back. She nods. “I left you a plate. You can heat it up later if you want.”
“Again?” Her confusion melts into something warmer. “Dude, you have to stop doing that.”
“What? Leaving you to starve for no good reason when we always have leftovers?”
“No,” she says, still a little soft, a little gentle. “Taking care of me, I mean.”
Oh, that.
That’sone more sign I really am the idiot who’s making this so hard.
Keeping her fed isn’t putting distance between us, is it?
And even if that’s another fucking fumble, even if I’m making our lives more intimate than they should be, we both know I’m not stopping.
Not as long as we’re under one roof, two prisoners to our own depraved desires.
9
HOMEWORK (MARGOT)
After the day I’ve had, there’s no freaking chance I’m getting any work done on my designs.
But I sit down at the desk anyway, stylus in hand. My tablet waits blankly in front of me like a mirror to my soul.
I want to focus on pretty shoes. Delicate heels and strappy sandals and pumps made with Cinderella-worthy class. Boots with so much sass they turn heads on a swivel, making every footstep a statement.
Wouldn’t boots like that fit Maine perfectly?
I’m not sure my heart will ever match my head when my muse whispers quietly. Right now, she’s being drowned out.
Kane.
Kane.
My unexpected white knight. Eighty percent devil and part-time gentleman.
Would the creeper have scattered for good without that big man charging out the door to protect us?
