Monty looks at me, then barks, like I’ve taught him to on command.
“Good boy. Speak,” I command again.
He barks again, his tail flying around in circles as he looks at me with bright eyes.
I peer back through the peephole and the dark mass has moved and is now standing up.
I fling the door open.
“Did you sleep there in case I snuck out again?”
Denver’s rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, but stops to take me in. His eyes slide down my bare legs then back up over the T-shirt I’m wearing with ‘I love my Chinese-crested dog’ printed on it. He stares at it and my nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric. He’s seen me walk around in lingerie at work, yet somehow my dog T-shirt is the thing that’s gotten his attention.
“You’ve got a meeting with your agent at ten. It’s on your schedule,” he says. The usually bright white in his eyes is dull. He looks drained. “I’ve got fresh clothes in my car. I’ll come back and wait for you out here.”
He turns to walk away, but I reach out and grab his sleeve.
“You need a shower. And coffee.” I wrinkle my nose. “Preferably in that order.”
“Sin—”
“Don’t argue with me. I’m not taking you to a meeting with my agent when it’s obvious you’ve spent the night sleeping on the floor.”
Denver holds my steady gaze, and my heart pounds against my ribs in anticipation of the argument. But I don’t care what I have to say to make him come inside, take that shower, and have a drink. After all, he slept on my hallway floor—it’s the least he needs. He tips his chin at me. A silent agreement.
I lean against my doorframe and purse my lips. “Good. Hurry up, then. Go get your stuff from your car.” I flick my fingers in a shooing motion.
He steps forward, and my nipples pull even tighter.
“You know what you need to do first,” he rasps.
I move back and close the door on him slowly, sliding the bolt into place.
The deep husk of his morning voice carries through the wood. “Good girl.”
I lean back against the door, sucking in a sharp breath.
Then I wait for him to come back.
“We leave in eight minutes,” Denver clips as I walk into the open living area with my purse and shoes in my hand.
“I know.” I throw him a small smile which he doesn’t return.
I thought him coming in and having a shower would thaw him a bit. But his moodiness has remained frosty since he came back up to my apartment with his duffel bag of clothes. I left him to use my shower in peace, but the clouds of man-scented bodywash filling my bedroom had me hovering outside, breathing in the notes of bergamot and mint.
Only one other man has ever used my shower, and it didn’t smell like that when he did.
His phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his jacket pocket. His deep brown hair is neat again, but still damp above his collar, and his jaw is freshly shaven. When he woke up this morning, there was a dust of stubble that I’ve never seen on him before. It suited him. Made him look more intimidating if that’s possible.
“You hungry?” I ask.
“No,” he replies, his eyes fixed on his phone.
I don’t believe him. A guy his size can’t survive on thin air. I still remember the giant breakfasts my brother would eat when he was alive. He was muscular and always working out, but he still wasn’t as large as Denver.
I should have been scared when he grabbed me last night. And for a second, I was. But the fear vanished as soon as I saw it was him. Seeing him so mad was intimidating, but also oddly comforting, knowing he cares about my safety. But the way he pinned me inside his arms with that wild look in his eyes like he could devour me with one bite prevented me from getting straight to sleep last night.
I laid awake in my bed thinking about him. About whether he fucks women with the same dangerous intensity that oozed from him last night. Whether he holds their eyes as he thrusts inside them. Whether he growls their name when he comes.
