After avoiding both him and the task of cleaning up the remains of her grandma’s mixer for as long as she could, she’d put on her big girl panties and gone to face both. But rather than finding him working at his laptop, she’d found a clean kitchen and Avery heading out the door with several trash bags, one presumably concealing the bits and pieces of her grandma’s mixer.
When he’d returned, she thanked him, and he’d shrugged it off. “It was something you didn’t need to deal with.”
Damn him and his not so surprising attempt to protect her and the effect it had on her. She’d almost melted into the floor.
Then he’d helped her clear the rest of the apartment, taking the sting out of it by making it fun, dancing with her broom, then exchanging the broom for her and spinning her around the living room. He’d played basketball with anything trashcan worthy and tried to teach her how to free throw, though that probably had more to do with getting up close and personal.
Afterward, they’d packed what was left, which didn’t amount to much, into the tubs from her bedroom, and when allwas said and done, she finally admitted what she’d been denying all afternoon.
She’d given him more than her virginity. The second she’d looked through the peephole to find him sitting in the hall, she’d lost her heart. It was the stupidest thing she had ever done, but there was no taking it back. And she wanted more of Avery before their arrangement ended. Not just more of what Grandma used to call the horizontal hokey pokey, but more of his time, his bad boy smiles, his naughty teasing, his easy laugh.
But there’d been none of that. No poking either. Nothing. Nada. Zip.
They’d eaten, he’d handed her one of his T-shirts and a pair of boxers, showed her where the towels were, and said he was taking the couch. That announcement had made her feel more alone than if she’d stayed at her apartment.
She could handle alone. Rejection? Not so much.
She shouldn’t have let him talk her into coming back here. She’d been weak. Needy. On the verge of another fucking meltdown. Unable to be alone. And…fucking besotted.
Jo pushed off the washer. She didn’t have time to dwell on what she couldn’t have. She had things to do. Like finding an apartment, shopping for a new wardrobe, preparing for tomorrow’s cannoli order, and putting some space between her and Avery before she lost all self-respect.
Dry or not, Jo grabbed her jeans, slammed the dryer door, and stalked out of the laundry room, the socks she’d borrowed silent on the plush carpet.
Avery stepped from his office into the hall, blocking the way to his bedroom. He held up a finger and spoke into his phone, “And the other thing?”
She hugged her clothes to her chest, hiding the way her nipples poked through his T-shirt, but his gaze was busy elsewhere, flowing over her legs like hot fudge. His boxers didn’t hide much.
Part of her, the rational part, tried to tell her that, in his mind, she needed time to adjust to a perceived trauma of losing her virginity. He’d seemed to take it as something he inflicted on her. But the part of her that dealt with every rejection she’d ever felt, the one that saw hurt at every turn and avoided it at all cost, had a hold on her she couldn’t shake.
“Thanks.” He hung up and pocketed his phone.
“Excuse me. I need to change.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.” He grinned. “You look hot in my shirt.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t wear it to the mall, can I?”
He frowned. “You okay?”
It’s all relative. “Yeah, I just have a lot to—”
“What are you doing with these?” He snatched her panties from the top of her jeans and lifted them to his nose. “You washed them?”
“They were dirty.”
“They aren’t yours to wash. They belong to me. I stole them fair and square.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he laid a finger on her lips. His free hand gripped her hip as he walked her backward.
The wall stopped her and cut off her gasp. He dragged it from her with the light touch of his lips against hers. Her tummy tumbled, then did a reverse somersault as his fingers drifted under the rolled up waistband of the boxers. “Here’s how it’s going to go, Legs.”
She clasped his wrist but didn’t stand a chance against his strength or the fog of lust this aggressive side of Avery stirred. “If you think one afternoon of sex gives you the right to dictate—”
His hand cupped her pussy.
“Avery…” She’d meant his name as a warning, but it landed somewhere in the zone of a breathless plea.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m going to let you wear them.”
