I groaned. “I’ve been craving that.”
His gaze intensified. “Then let’s sate it.”
I suppressed a shiver. I was looking too hard into his reaction.
We found a buffet after some googling. The sun had set, and tonight had a much more date-like feel than last weekend had. Over our meal, he explained more of the playing and talked about some of the tournaments he’d been to. He said he’d even gotten some guys’ numbers so they could get together by themselves instead of waiting for bigger venues. And he also had a few trades lined up.
He was lighter tonight than he had been all week. Guilt threatened to turn my dinner into a lump. I should’ve controlled myself better.
On the drive home, I showered him with questions about his investors and his travel itinerary. The man had a plan. I hadn’t even contacted a landlord. I couldn’t risk my job, but dammit, I didn’t want to move.
When he pulled up in front of the house, I stared at the dark shape. A night-light in the hallway was on and glowed through the blinds. Home sweet home. Just not mine. Or Van’s.
After we got inside, he stretched his arms above his head. His UNO hoodie rose above his waistband, baring a strip of lean abs that I hadn’t seen despite sleeping with him every night for six weeks. “I’m going to finish up some last-minute things.”
My heart fluttered to the ground like the leaves this time of year. He was going back to work? After we’d spent much of the day together? “Don’t have too much fun.”
I trudged to the bedroom, my frustration growing about how last weekend had affected us. I stopped in front of the door. Did I keep pretending like I wasn’t bothered by the distance between us? We were acting normal, but it was there. Would I make it worse by addressing the pent-up elephant in the room?
Did I want to go through another week of wondering if I had offended him? Then another week after that, and another, until we parted ways? I spun around on my stockinged feet. The office light was on. Van was inside.
At the doorway, I stalled. I wasn’t brave enough to go all the way in. He was standing behind his desk, ready to take a seat. He glanced up, a question in his eyes.
Here goes. “Last weekend, did I mess this up? Like royally mess everything up?”
He propped his hands on the top of his desk, leaning forward. He might be in a sweatshirt and blue jeans, but he looked like he could command a boardroom. He’d do just that when we divorced. He’d be ready.
I twisted my fingers together. “I didn’t mean to. These hormones?—”
“Are they still bothering you?”
They were behind it. Living with Van was bothering me in a hot-and-bothered way. “Yes.”
He pushed off his desk and came around it. Stopping on the opposite side of the threshold as me, he propped his hands on the doorframe. “Do you need help…feeling better?”
Now was my chance. “Y-yes. Wait.” I held a hand up, but we were so close I put it right on his chest. “We need to talk first because I can’t take another week of wondering if you regretted what happened.” If he regretted me.
“No.” He didn’t elaborate more. A simple answer that filled me with hope.
“I didn’t make you uncomfortable?”
“The erections did.”
I blew out a breath. Whoa. “So you didn’t mind?”
His gaze softened. “No, but I worried I crossed the line with you.”
“No.”
“Then…” If possible, he got closer. “We should take advantage of our time together to help relieve each other.”
Yes, please. I almost said it, but another issue cropped up, an old but relevant one. “Doesn’t it bother you? I’m your brother’s ex.”
Self-recrimination passed through his eyes. “No.”
“As simple as that?” It just didn’t dig under his skin anymore? He didn’t act like it, but I had to know. If he rejected me again, it’d hurt more than getting left at the altar. “Because after the kiss…”
He briefly closed his eyes. “About that. I’m sure you don’t have the whole story.”
