Yeah, because that’s a normal boss thought.
Fucking hell.
“Um, you want to change first, we could go together?” I send out.
“It’s okay, I’ll be back in five.”
The door opens and closes, and I’m off the bed.
Ignoring the slightly spinning room, I make my way to where Petal sits, unfussed her favorite person went out with no bra for every man in New York to ogle.
Why the hell am I being so overprotective?
So . . . territorial?
I pace the length of the sofa for three minutes and forty-nine seconds before I check my phone.
Nothing.
No messages.
No calls.
Two minutes later, the door opens and London smiles at me, a paper bag in hand as she drops the keys to the front table and kicks the door closed.
“Why are you up?” her gaze travels my body, up and then back down. My breathing crashes out when her focus snags on my sweats that are still tented.
“You need to take care of that?” Her smile slips to one side, and she turns away, putting items in the fridge.
Christ above.
I head for the bedroom, but something stops me from walking away from her. “London,” I say, turning back.
“Yeah?” She bobs up, sliding the bag onto the counter.
I rub a hand behind my neck, holding her gaze as fire engulfs my fucking chest.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Never mind.”
“Okay, whatever you say. Coffee will be ready in five.”
“Thanks.” I wander to my bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed.
Exhaustion floods in, the sliver of dizziness I’ve been holding at bay coming back with a vengeance.
My ass hits the floor before I can grab onto the bed.
“Ah, fuck.”
Footsteps hurry into the bedroom, and then London is kneeling in front of me. “What happened? Are you alright?”
My head rolls back on the bed. “Yeah, feeling a li?—”
A warm hand presses over my forehead.
