Guilt ripped my heart into a thousand tiny pieces, but he pressed a soft kiss to my lips and put it back together again. “Yes, I promise.”
11
WICK
The ceiling wasn’tthe one in my house. I stared at the white wood, illuminated by the lantern, for a while before I remembered I was in Maurice’s shotgun home. I took stock of the things I hadn’t taken the time to notice last night. The color scheme inside seemed to match the one on the exterior—teal and yellow—but I couldn’t be sure without real light. I’d woken up before my alarm, and I’d intended to get out of the bed, but with Maurice beside me on the soft sheets, that wasn’t an attractive prospect. I studied him and ran a finger along his jaw.
Why did he want to keep our new relationship a secret? I frowned. He hadn’t sounded happy about his last boyfriend doing something similar, so why suggest it for us? Was he worried we wouldn’t last? Did he think it wasn’t worth the disruption at work?
I blew out a long breath.
Maybe I needed to prove to him I was going to be more than a summer fling. I slid closer and kissed his nose, and his brow furrowed in his sleep. I would just try extra hard to be good to him and eventually he would come around. Today I would start letting him know exactly how serious I was. With that decided, I kissed all over his face and jostled the mattress. “Maurice.”
“Hmm?” He turned his face away, and I blew into his ear. He waved his hand in my direction and shook his head.
“Maurice. Wake up.”
“Huh?” His eyelids cracked open.
“Come on. We need to get to my house.” I rubbed a hand over his chest and one of his powerful shoulders. “Mrs. Riggins will have breakfast ready soon. It also doesn’t seem like the electricity is back on here, so you’ll want to shower over at my place.”
“Breakfast? She will? How do you know?” He sat up and blinked at me, confusion written on his face.
“Because she always does. We need showers. I know I’m sticky. Come on.”
He grunted. “Ugh. I’m all gross with sweat.” He sniffed his armpit and wrinkled his nose, and I lost the battle to stay serious, laughing until I felt drunk. The lantern was still going strong—we’d forgotten to turn the light off last night, but I was glad because I wouldn’t have wanted to miss the expression on his face.
“Not a morning person? I thought you were.” I tried to hide my grin, but he pouted in my direction, so maybe I failed.
He groped around on the nightstand and snagged his glasses. With a huff, he plopped the frames on his nose. “You always see me post-coffee.” I tried to kiss his lips, but he turned away, grumbling, “Morning breath.”
With a snort, I pecked a loud smooch on his cheek instead. “Come on. Grab your stuff. Do you have a suit bag? You can borrow anything I own, just take the things you don’t want to share with me.”
“Razor. Toothbrush,” he mumbled, listing them off on his fingers. Maurice really was adorable this early in the morning. He glared at the windows, then the lantern. “It’s still dark.”
I kissed his solid neck and sucked on the salty skin until he moaned, and then an evil impulse struck. I shoved him until he was on the edge of the mattress.
“What are you doing?”
I crawled around him and hopped off the bed. Winking, I grabbed his feet and dragged them down until they touched the floorboards. “There. Now walk.”
“Bah.” He stood and smacked my ass hard enough to sting before I could get out of the way. All I could do was laugh.
About forty minutes later I pulled the Maserati up in front of my house, and Maurice sort of scrunched down into his seat beside me, looking even more like the cute cuddle bear I knew him to be at heart. He rubbed his hands along his cheeks. “Your staff will know you spent the night with me, rather than staying here in your own bed.”
“So?”
He glanced out his window, and I leaned forward but couldn’t catch a glimpse of his expression. “It’s just weird that other people know that much about your life... and now my life.”
“Is it?” I turned off the car and opened my door. “It’s always been this way for me.” The staff at the house was like family, but he sounded as if he thought they were strangers. Eventually he would understand. I got out and he followed after me to the rear of the car. “Will you come back for dinner?” I used the key fob to pop the trunk, then stuffed my keys in my pocket.
“We haven’t had breakfast.” He touched my side with his hand, almost as if he was checking to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming. “Yes.”
My immediate impulse was to do a victory dance, but instead, I grabbed his suit bag, then slung the strap of the small backpack he’d shoved his things into over my shoulder. “Great! Let’s go.”
“I can carry my own belongings.” He held up a hand.
“Nah, I already have them. Let me.” I dodged away and started toward the front door.
