“Yes, we drank a lot, but no, we didn’t have sex,” I repeated slowly. “I slept on the couch after nursing my wounds because you beat me at Scrabble three times in a row, and I’ve never lost that game. I’ve also never let anyone win. Ever. And I never will. Not even my beloved wife of fifty years.”
She blinked at me. “We’ve only been married for five days.”
“Formalities,” I said, nodding at her mug. “Drink that. You’ll feel better.”
What I didn’t tell her was that I’d dumped her in my bed like she belonged there—and I’d liked seeing her in it. A lot.
In my own drunken state, it had taken everything I’d had not to climb in right beside her, wrap my arms around her, and finally go to bed with my wife, but she’d started nodding off heavily during our fourth game, and despite the obscene amount of alcohol in my bloodstream, I hadn’t wanted her waking up feeling like I’d taken advantage.
Jane held my gaze for another beat, searching, but I saw the moment she realized I was telling the truth. Relief eased the tension from her brow and she wrapped both hands around the mug, lifting it slowly to her lips and taking a sip.
Satisfied that she wasn’t about to freak out anymore, I spun and fixed my own coffee, and for the next few minutes, we sipped in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something strangely domestic about this, both of us still in the clothes we’d slept in while we drank our morning coffee together, just slowly waking up and getting our thoughts in some kind of logical order.
It felt nicer than I’d thought it might, using two mugs instead of one. Not being alone for this part of the day when I hadn’t shared this ritual with anyone in a really long time. I wasn’t one to hang around after a hookup, and I never brought women back here, so I’d never had to boot them out before coffee either.
“Would you like some scrambled eggs?” I offered when my espresso was almost done. “I’m not a great cook, but evenIcan manage breaking some eggs and not letting them burn.”
She let out a surprised laugh, hesitating for just a second before she finally took me up on it. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I swept a hand toward the door. “In the meantime, if you’d like to have a shower while I make breakfast, I can show you to the bathroom?”
Her eyes widened slightly and she nodded much faster and much more enthusiastically this time. “Yes, please. I feel like a rat died in my mouth last night and I don’t even want to know how bad I stink.”
She didn’t actually. Not at all, but I chuckled anyway and stood. “Let’s go, then. After a heavy night, a shower is my go-to cure. I can’t stand being awake for longer than five minutes without one when I’m hungover.”
“Agreed,” she said as I led her back upstairs to my ensuite, but as soon as we walked in, I noticed that her only options for shower goods were all aggressively masculine. My counter andshower shelf were lined with bottles that featured scents like leather, pine, and cedar.
I didn’t look for it, but I was pretty sure there was even something in here that advertised itself asstorm. Nose wrinkling, I dragged a hand over the back of my neck and glanced at her over my shoulder, offering what I hoped was an apologetic smile.
“I’ll have my assistant get you some soap and shampoo,” I said. “Stuff that doesn’t smell like… this. I don’t usually have guests, but I buy toothbrush packs from Costco. They’re a good deal.”
Her laugh was soft but again surprised as I handed her a fresh one. “I’ll get you a better toothbrush to keep here.”
She looked around the bathroom after she took it, her gaze intent and slightly stunned. I didn’t know what she was looking for, but I suddenly felt the need to add, “I don’t bring women home, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Her eyes flicked back to mine. “Oh.”
Not accusation or disbelief. Just more surprise. I kind of liked it though, the way I seemed to keep catching her off guard in ways I suspected were good.
Leaving her standing in the center of my space, which I’d now realized really wasn’t extremely girl friendly, I moved to the door and grimaced. “I’m sorry. Iwillbe better prepared next time. This is your home now too, Jane. Whether or not you live here permanently, I want you to be comfortable and to have everything you need.”
Already making mental notes of everything I had to ask my assistant to get, I nodded and shut the door behind me. Then I realized that she was about to get naked in my shower and I groaned, scrubbing a hand over my face and racing back downstairs like my ass was on fire.
Maybe if I put some physical distance between me and that door, and focused on getting breakfast ready, I wouldn’t keep conjuring up mental images of her lathering herself up inmysoap. Massaging it into her breasts and?—
Yeah, that’s enough. No one massages soap into themselves anyway. Stop it.
It took inhuman strength to shove all those pictures of her naked out of my mind, but I managed it okay until she came back downstairs after. Freshly showered, she was wearing one of my button-downs with her borrowed sweats, her hair wet and curling against her neck, and she smelled unmistakably like me.
I had to grip the counter so hard my fingers ached to keep myself from reaching for her.I’m about to lose my mind over this woman. I’m fucking sure of it.
There was something about her that nagged at my psyche, like she’d been under my skin from the moment we’d met, leaving a brand I couldn’t scrub out. Seeing her like this—soft and unguarded in my space—made my thoughts spiral in directions I wasn’t ready for.
Yet I managed to keep my composure—only just—and handed over a fresh cup of coffee. “Good shower?”
Shit, why is my voice so rough?I cleared my throat and busied myself with dishing up her breakfast.
“Yeah, it was great. Thanks for letting me use it.” She perched on a stool, sipping her coffee and watching me like she was finally starting to feel a little bit more like herself. “Are you okay?”
