I sit on the couch, and Goonie immediately comes over to curl up next to me. I flip on the TV, keeping the volume low, but I can’t seem to focus on the screen.
My attention keeps drifting to the sexy way Noia bites her lip, and the little furrow between her brows when she’s concentrating too hard. How her nipples hardened when my fingers brushed against the back of her neck in the cab of the truck.
The shower turns on upstairs.
My hand moves to shift my cock, but I can’t get comfortable knowing she’s up there naked with water sluicing over her soft, creamy skin.
“Fuck.”
Needing a different type of distraction, I shove up from the couch and head to the kitchen to make something for dinner.
I rummage through the freezer and cupboards, surprised to find it better stocked than I thought it was. There’s chicken, pasta, and an assortment of veggies. Whoever stocked this place before she arrived knew what they were doing.
Forty-five minutes later, I take a plate of garlic butter pasta with grilled chicken and a glass of white wine upstairs. The shower stopped running a while ago, and I can hear the rapid-fire tapping of keys coming from her room.
The door is partially open and a sliver of golden light spillsinto the hallway. I tap gently with my knuckle before pushing it open.
I pause in the doorway and take her in. She’s sitting cross-legged in her chair, hair piled messily on top of her head, wearing an oversized T-shirt. Her glasses are perched on the end of her nose, and she’s completely lost in whatever world she’s creating. Her fingers fly across the keyboard, pausing only when she bites her lower lip in concentration.
Taking a deep breath, I will my dick to behave.
I set the plate down on the corner of her desk, careful not to disturb the organized chaos of sticky notes and reference books. Her laptop screen glows with words from my story—our story.
I catch glimpses of phrases: “mineral water slick on his skin” and “the truck appeared like some kind of phantom,” my name flashing randomly before my eyes.
She’s good. Really good. The way she captures our tension, the heat simmering beneath every interaction—it’s all right there on the page—raw, honest and sexy as hell.
“You gonna eat that or let it get cold?” I ask, leaning against the edge of her desk.
Startled, Noia jumps, her hands flying to her chest. “Jesus, Rye! How long have you been standing there?”
Did she just give me a nickname?
Brushing off the thrill it gives me, I chuckle. “Long enough to read that I apparently have eyes ‘the color of storm clouds gathering over a restless ocean.’” I smirk. “Kind of poetic if you ask me.”
Her cheeks flush that beautiful shade of pink and she quickly minimizes the document. “It’s a first draft,” she mumbles, adjusting her glasses. “And you weren’t supposed to read it yet.”
“Why not? It’s my story too.”
She eyes the plate, steam still rising from the perfectly seared chicken. “You cooked?”
“Found some stuff in your freezer that wasn’t completely fossilized.” I push the plate closer to her. “Eat.”
She stretches, arching her back in a way that makes her breasts push against the thin fabric of her T-shirt.
Forcing myself to look away, I clear my throat.
“Thanks.” She picks up the fork and takes a tentative bite. Her eyes widen. “Holy shit, this is really good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I snort.
“Sorry. It’s just... Eric couldn’t boil water without burning it.”
Annoyance flares. “How about we not talk about him right now,” I growl.
Her irises go wide as she swallows, eyes bouncing between mine. “Okaaay…”
“I just…” Huffing out a sigh, I rake my hands through my hair. “I’m sorry, it’s just that—” I clench my fists at my sides, trying to keep my voice steady. “Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to be around you?”
