Page 66 of Until You

I was terrified each time he touched me that I’d hesitate and he’d somehow know.

I shiver at the memories I’d much rather erase from my brain.

But right now, in this moment, that time feels so far away. So long ago. Especially when I’m staring at a man I thought would be a hard-ass but is really anything but.

“You should stay here.” He pants the words out as we come down from our last orgasm.

“What do you mean I should stay here?”

“At the house. Here. In the room down the hall.”

“Um . . . I don’t even know what to say about that.”

“They’re going to have to tear up the hardwood floor. Cut out the drywall. The water will be off for some time while this all happens. It would just be easier if you and Hani stayed here.”

I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to respond. It’s one thing to have an incredible night of sex with someone, but it’s a whole other thing to move in with them. It makes finding out what drives you crazy about them that much quicker. It makes the newness wear off that much faster. It makes—

“I can hear you overthinking from here, Tennyson. I’m not asking you to move in for the summer or anything permanent like that. Just while they fix the shit that broke in your house because I didn’t get down there in time.” He reaches out and rests a hand on my lower abdomen. A casual gesture that somehow feels so very intimate. “The girls would love it. It’d be nice to have some intelligent adult conversation on things other than what’s trending and how to do a Swedish braid.”

“You mean Dutch braid?”

“Yeah. That.” He chuckles. “See? I need more adult interaction. That, and you’d get more horrible cooking and baking. That’s all. Nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” I ask, suggestion laced in those two words.

“Well”—I can hear his smile in his voice—“unless you want something else.”

“It might complicate things with the girls under the same roof.”

“Or it might make it more fun.” He leans over and kisses my bare shoulder. “Think about it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Tennyson

“THE GIRLS.”

I awake to Crew’s startled words, followed by the sound of a car door slamming. We both bolt out of bed, half-awake and seriously sleep deprived from all our exertions last night.

Laughter bubbles up. I can’t help it when in the chaos of trying to find my clothes, I look up and see Crew. He’s standing in the middle of the room, hair rumpled, a pillow crease on his cheek, and morning wood flying full-staff.

“Get dressed,” I say and yelp when my foot gets hooked in the waist of my shorts. I fall over, landing with a resounding thud that has both of us laughing despite the frenzy we’re both in the midst of.

Already with his shorts on, Crew effortlessly hauls me up from the floor and shoves the rest of my clothes into my hands. “Here.”

Fighting more laughter, I start toward the bedroom door only to hear the front door open and a chorus of “Dad!” rings out and up the stairs.

Crew freezes, eyes wide, and mouth open. “I didn’t lock the door,” he mumbles. “Or set the fucking alarm.” Then he looks around the room in panic. “The closet,” he whisper-yells as he scoops up my shoes and purse and pushes me toward his closet.

“The closet?”

“Yes. Please.” He presses a brusque, appeasing kiss to my lips. “I’ll figure something out. Give me a few minutes,” he says seconds before I’m bathed in darkness when he closes the louvered doors.

Through the angled slats, I watch Crew rush out of the room while pulling a T-shirt over his head.

Oh my God.

The visual of Crew naked and panicked hits me again, and I have to hold a hand over my mouth to smother the laughter I’ve lost the battle fighting.