My mouth goes dry. I reach for the strings of his pajama pants, but he stills my attempt.
“Not now.” His voice is raspy and velvety against my skin. Is there going to be a next time?
“I want to return the favor.” I try to negotiate, hiding my frustration.
“You need to rest, come on.” Next thing I know the floor disappears from under my feet and I’m cradled in Carter’s arms.
My heart starts racing. He didn’t want me to touch him. What did I just do? We’re stuck together for at least another month. Different scenarios swirl inside my head, panic slowly creeping in.
He places me into the bed and crawls in behind me.
“Don’t overthink it,” Carters says into my temple.
His warmth and soothing smell relax my muscles. The steady rhythm of his heart and the strong arm holding me tight finally lull me to sleep and my mind drifts away, over gray clouds and rivers of honey.
The weight of what happened last night in the kitchen crashes down on me, alone in bed and mortified beyond words. Bold Eliza is a distant memory. Flashes of Carter’s hands on me run through my brain and an ache deep in my belly gradually builds, adding to my anxiety.
What’re my options?
Hide in the bedroom until he goes to sleep and make a run for it in the middle of the night? Pitch a tent under the half-finished roof of the tiny house?
Be a grown-up about it and admit the lapse in judgment. There’s no other way to color it since he made it clear he regretted it and I’m supposed to focus on getting my life together and stop embarrassing myself in front of Carter.
God.
I remember the noises I made and how I completely unraveled over my kitchen countertop. I can never face the man again. An avalanche of thoughts floods my mind until a fully-formed headache and an exploding bladder push me out of the bed I hid in longer than necessary.
I’m not a coward! That’s what I tell myself as I tiptoe down the hallway, an intruder in my own house, until I spot the back of his head. He’s in his usual spot on the couch with his tablet, calmly reading the news.
Small mercies, I guess. I can grab a glass of lemonade undetected, and we can both pretend nothing happened. I’m ready to clap myself on the back for a good stealth job when his voice freezes me in front of the open cabinet.
“You slept in today.” Carter’s tone is even, still reading the article.
“Yes. Hi. Morning.” I stumble through an attempt at playing it casual.
“Did you have a good sleep?”
The glass I’m holding clanks on the counter and I stare at it, still not able to look at him. “Yes, thank you.” It comes out breathy and I want to curse myself for my lack of composure.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed.” There’s a softness in his words, giving me the courage to lift my head.
As usual, he betrays no emotion, but I find relief in the lack of embarrassment or disgust. Instead, I’m thrown off-kilter by the comforting warmth of his eyes.
“I’m…not?”
“Come here.” He pats the couch, his gaze never leaving me.
Dragging my feet to sit on the opposite side, I rest my chin on my knees, my stomach bubbling with uncertainty.
“We’re two adults who enjoyed a moment of exploration,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m leaving, you’re busy with the home. There’s not much space for complications in either of our lives.”
“Right. No complications,” I answer flatly, stumbling along his line of thought.
“Nothing has to change. We can enjoy each other’s company in the meantime.”
“Ihm,” is my less-than-articulate reply, until my brain catches up to his meaning. “Are you suggesting a roommates-with-benefits deal?” I squeak out.
“If it’s something you’d be interested in.” This time he smiles, and I’m thrown into a loop of self-doubt, shock, and interest.
