“I’d love to, but I need to get cleaned up first.”
He gestured at a nearby doorway. “That guest room has one of the best showers in the house. Take your time, and I’ll find you something to sleep in.”
I lingered in the shower, which was huge and had an excellent massaging shower head. When I finally emerged wrapped in a towel, a stack of clothes was waiting for me on the bed. Micah had even brought up my jacket from the patio. I put on a comfortable outfit, hung up my suit and shirt, and found my phone.
By now, Ash had probably figured out I wasn’t returning to the party. But he tended to worry about me, so I sent him a quick text. He replied a few moments later with: Everything alright?
I sat down on the bed and wrote: It’s great, actually. Decided to spend the night with—I stopped typing and thought about that for a few moments. It was too complicated to explain I was currently off the clock, so I ended up writing: Decided to spend the night with a new client. He had an interesting proposition for me, so you and I might have some things to discuss tomorrow. Happy 4th! See you in the morning.
I didn’t think Ash would complain about having our apartment to himself for the next few months. I’d obviously keep paying rent and would still spend time there. But since his boyfriend had recently moved in, they’d probably enjoy the added privacy.
So, had I made up my mind? Was I really spending half a year playing house with a guy I barely knew, and was I going to let him pay me an exorbitant amount of money for that?
Also, what was I supposed to think about what had just happened on the roof? That had been a lot more intimate than I was used to.
But maybe that was a positive. Wouldn’t it be great to spend time with a guy I actually wanted to fuck, instead of going through the motions?
Just then, something dawned on me—with what he was paying me, I’d never have to fake it again. I could finally leave that job behind and invest in a little café, or a bookstore, or, god, anything really, so I wouldn’t have to keep selling my body just to make rent.
Realistically, how much longer could I really expect to keep doing this? No matter how sex-positive I was and how much I made a point of owning what I did for a living, the job still took its toll on me. Always pretending was draining—smiling over dinner while rich men droned on about themselves, letting someone else dictate if, when, and how we fucked, losing all my autonomy when I was on these so-called “dates”…
Okay, given how much I hated that, why the hell had it been such a turn on when Micah took control? My cock started to get hard as I flashed back to our rooftop encounter, but I ignored it and climbed off the bed.
Before leaving the guest bedroom, I paused in front of a mirror to finger-comb my hair and frowned at what I was wearing. I’d bundled up in an oversized sweatshirt, a pair of sweatpants I’d had to cinch in at the waist, and thick wool socks. I definitely wasn’t bringing sexy back in this outfit, but if I was actually considering moving in with him for half a year, Micah needed to lower his expectations, starting immediately. I really wasn’t going to show up for breakfast every morning looking perfectly polished and put together. Just thinking about it was exhausting.
I pocketed my phone, pushed my glasses further up the bridge of my nose, and headed for the stairs, peeking into rooms along the way. It was probably a good thing the house was huge since he was totally stuck here, but all this emptiness had to feel lonely.
Eventually, I found Micah in the kitchen, which was at the very back of the ground floor. He was sitting at the black granite-topped island wearing his reading glasses and flipping through a cookbook, and he was bundled up like I was in sweats and thick socks. He’d also pulled his hair into a high, messy ponytail, which looked adorable.
He smiled when he saw me and set the cookbook aside, then put his glasses on top of it. “I’m heating up the kettle for tea,” he said, “and we still have the chocolate mousse I made us for dessert. Would you like either or both?”
“Both, please.”
I sat down at the island and looked around me as he got up and moved to the stove. The kitchen was a lot to take in, especially the black and red color scheme with those glossy, red lacquer cabinets I’d noticed earlier. The black stone counters were cluttered with all sorts of gadgets, including multiple coffee makers, waffle irons, an ice cream maker, and several things I couldn’t actually identify. And while the room was definitely interesting, I wouldn’t call it warm or inviting.