I slid my iPad into the bag at my feet and then twisted to face Taylor. “About that whole imposition thing,” I began nervously.
What if he didn’t want me to stay with him for more than a couple of days? What if he wasn’t interested in finding out all ofmyfavorite things? What if this meant more to me than it did to him?
“As if you could ever be an imposition,” he scoffed. “You’re an excellent roommate.” He leaned in close enough for me to pick up the faint scent of his cologne and dropped his voice low to add, “And I’m not just talking about the convenient orgasms.”
Right. Convenient sex. That’s all this was.
And yet …
I drew in a deep breath and tried to keep my tone casual when I asked, “Would you be okay with me crashing at your place until the end of the month?”
“Are you serious?” he exclaimed, a huge grin stretching across his face.
“Yeah. I have a few phone calls I'll need to make, but I just decided it's time for me to take a vacation, and since you live in Vacationland ..."
Taylor squirmed in his seat, his leg bouncing up and down, color rising in his cheeks. “I want to kiss you so fucking bad right now,” he whispered.
Surveying the cabin to make sure no one was looking, I leaned close enough to speak directly into his ear. “Once we get to your house, you can kiss me wherever and however you like. For the next two weeks, I’m yours.” I nipped his earlobe, then settled back in my seat.
Taylor’s face was flushed, and he was breathing heavily. “You’re so to pay for that.”
“Promise?” I teased with a wink as the captain’s voice announced our descent.
Outside the window, clouds gave way to the coastline, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d looked forward to landing somewhere quite so much.
CHAPTER 12
TAYLOR
“So, this is it,”I said, trying to see my home through Sebastian’s eyes.
When you owned a house that pre-dated the Revolutionary War, you got used to its imperfections—even joked about how they were “character” or “patina” instead of major issues. But for all the jokes I made about this place, I loved the wide pine floors that sloped noticeably toward the chimney, over two centuries of footsteps worn into their surface. The dark, rough, hand-hewn beams overhead bore visible axe marks, and running from one corner of the room to the other was a hairline crack in the plaster I’d been meaning to fix for three years.
“I like it,” Sebastian said, setting his bag down next to the sofa and turning in a slow circle. “I kept trying to picture it based on your description, and I imagined something more …” He gestured vaguely.
“More fucked up?” I offered.
He laughed. “Yeah. Definitely. A hole in the floor or the ceiling caving in, maybe.” He traced the edge of the mantel. “It’s beautiful, Taylor. Not what I imagined for you—” He snapped his mouth shut, like maybe he’d said too much.
My heart kicked up.
“What did you imagine?”
Sebastian had given me the impression he’d forced himself not to think about me. But maybe …
His eyes cut to the side. “Honestly? I pictured you in a condo. Something modern with a gym in the building and a doorman. Close to the arena, probably.” His voice was tight with frustration. “I pictured something generic. Like if I didn’t let myself imagine anythingspecific, I could tell myself I wasn’t thinking about you at all or where you might be.”
I stepped closer, threading our fingers together. “But youdidthink about me.”
His fingers tightened around mine, and then he was pulling me in, one hand coming up to cup my jaw. The kiss was soft and unhurried. Not the heated, desperate ones from Vegas, but one that was softer. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine for a moment before he stepped away, shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath.
His reaction confused me.
“I need water,” I said, clearing the thickness from my throat. “Want some?”
He nodded.
“This way,” I said, moving toward the kitchen at the back of the house, Sebastian following behind.
