Then, as I’m sliding behind the wheel of my new car, I can’t help but smile.I sync my phone to Maps and follow the GPS through quiet residential streets and winding roads.My pulse rises with every turn.
Eventually, I turn into a long, tree-lined driveway.The house doesn’t appear until I’m halfway up, and when it does, I let out a low whistle.
His house is a modern architectural statement that looks like it belongs in a design magazine.
It’s beautiful, but intimidating, because it looks so expensive.
I park, step out, and soak it in.
The front yard is simple, with natural boulders, trimmed hedges, and trees swaying in the breeze.There are no flowers, and the whole place radiates masculine control like everything here is exactly where he wants it, down to the grain of the wood and the angle of the light.The difference between us is evident here.I’m used to cozy apartments, with worn-in furniture, and this place is an untouchable showroom.
I climb the wide concrete steps and approach the massive front doors, which are charcoal-colored wood with matte black handles and a sleek button for the doorbell.I press it and take a breath.
The door swings open a few seconds later, and there he is.
Barefoot, with gray sweats hanging low on his hips.A soft white T-shirt clings to his chest.His hair is still damp, like he’s just stepped out of the shower.
My mouth goes dry.
“Hey,” I manage, swallowing hard.
“Come in.”He gestures with a quick flick of his fingers, stepping aside.
I walk past him, and the warmth of his home wraps around me.It’s open and airy, with modern furniture in blacks and neutrals.It smells like wood and something faintly fresh.But I barely get a chance to take it all in before his hand closes around my waist and pulls me flush against him.
“Where’s my kiss?”he asks.
His mouth finds mine.My hands grip his T-shirt, pulling him closer as he deepens the connection, tasting me like he’s been starving.Every nerve in my body lights up, and suddenly I forget where I am, except for the way he’s kissing me.When we finally break apart, breathless, I blink up at him.
“Sorry,” I say, dazed.“I was just… looking at your house.”
“I know.But I needed that.”A slow grin curves his lips.“I’ll give you the tour now.”
He leads me through the house, showing me the kitchen, with its sleek appliances and giant island, and then the living room, with a low-slung beige sectional and a grand fireplace.A few family pictures in frames surprise me, and one on the mantle, another on a console table.Besides that, the space is clean and minimal.Cozy in a way that doesn’t scream designed by a woman, but it’s still lived in.
When we reach his bedroom, I pause in the doorway.
The four-poster bed is massive, dressed in crisp white sheets and a dark charcoal set with a soft gray blanket folded at the foot.
“I’m guessing you haven’t had a maid in today,” I say, stepping closer.“So if you made that bed yourself… I’m impressed.”
He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.“What’s that look for?”
“I’m just thinking about how I’m going to mess up those perfect hospital corners.”
He grins and launches for my waist again, this time pressing soft kisses to my neck, fingers tickling my sides until I squeal.
“We can mess it up now and later,” he growls.
My heart stumbles.He said later like I’m staying, like this isn’t just a quick hookup before our shift.It’s like he wants me here for more than just a few hours.
I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his mouth to mine again.This kiss is different.Slower at first, like we’re savoring each other because we have time, not rushing with fear of being interrupted.His hands are sliding down to my hips, and mine are tugging at his shirt.He lifts me easily, and I gasp as my legs wrap around his waist.
He walks me backward toward the bed, his hands firm on my waist, lips hard against mine.I land on top of him, straddling his lap.My breath catches.I didn’t expect that.I thought he’d lay me down, take control like he always does.But right now, he’s looking up at me, hands resting on my thighs, eyes hungry…
His thighs are solid beneath me, his hands already sliding up under my sweater, palms rough and warm against my skin.I pull back slightly, breathless and amused, brushing my lips against his.
“For someone who likes to be in control,” I whisper against his mouth, “you seem to enjoy me on top.”
