Roommate. Right. That’s what we were. Roommates who happened to be legally married.
Roommates who’d kissed like the world was ending a few hours ago. My brain went straight back to the courthouse like it had been doing the entire drive up here in a loop I couldn’t break.
Her mouth under mine. Her hands. The sounds she’d made that only I heard.
My body had been making an argument since the courthouse parking lot to kiss her again. It was getting harder to counter.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For this. For making it nice.”
I had nothing to say to that. We were close enough that I could see the freckles across her nose, could see exactly where her collarbone met the neckline of that dress.
I wanted to close the distance so badly it was a physical thing — my chest tight, my body already responding in ways that made the word arrangement feel like the stupidest thing I’d ever agreed to. I wanted to back her against the wall, wanted my hands on those curves I’d been craving since she’d walked into Kate’s office. I wanted to find out what sounds she’d make if I took my time instead of stopping
I stepped back.
One deliberate step. Putting distance between us before my body made the decision my brain was still arguing about.
Something moved through her eyes—not quite disappointment, not quite relief.
“I’ll get the rest of your stuff,” I said, needing to move, needing to do something with my hands that didn’t involve pulling her close to see if I just imagined how good she’d tasted.
“I can help.”
“I’ve got it.”
I escaped before she could argue. I knew instinctively she was not someone who asked for help or took it when it was offered.
It took me three trips to get everything inside. She was still wearing that dress, and her hair was still down.
Because I’d told her to leave it that way.
Because I was an idiot.
“I’m starving,” she announced, exploring the kitchen. “Please tell me you have food.”
“I went shopping yesterday.” I opened the fridge. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got... options.”
She peered around me, and I became very aware of how close she was. Close enough to smell the shampoo she used. Close enough to hear her small intake of breath as she leaned against my back.
“You bought out the store,” she said, laughing. “Thorne, there’s like six different kinds of cheese in here.”
“I didn’t know which one you preferred.”
“So you got all of them?”
“It seemed logical.”
She looked up at me, still laughing, and we were too close. Way too close. I stepped back. Again. “I can make dinner. If you want to settle in.”
“Or I could help. What are you making?”
“Steak.”
“Of course, because you’re a meat and potatoes kind of man.” She bumped her hip against mine—a playful, sassy movethat nearly made me groan out loud. “Okay, mountain man. Show me what you’ve got.”
Cooking with her was a special kind of torture. The kitchen was designed for one person—one very lonely person. With the two of us, it was a constant dance of near-misses. She moved with a confidence that surprised me, her hips swaying as she chopped vegetables. I stayed by the stove, my eyes fixed on the searing meat, but I was aware of her every move.
I’d invited a damn ray of sunshine into my life.
