“Never mind.” I don’t need him to explain to me that he is a good-looking single man with an obviously high sex drive and enough skill to live up to the promise of him. “Turn right into the next alley.” I grab my bag from the floor at my feet and dig inside for my keys. Once I have them in hand and he stops, I unhook my belt and open my door. “You can follow me to my place.” He doesn’t say anything, so I get out but stop when he is there to meet me at the hood of his car.
“You okay?” He gets close, his hand shooting out to wrap around my hip, and I pull in a breath through my nose when he tugs me against his chest.
“Yeah, just tired, I think.”
“Are you okay to drive?”
“I don’t live very far from here.”
“We’ll sleep when we get to your place.” He holds my chin as he leans down to brush his lips over mine, then leans back, his eyes roaming my face. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Yeah,” I say, and he lifts his chin, then walks me to my car and opens the door. “Nice ride.”
“Thanks.” I smile up at him, then settle into my seat and turn on the engine. His gaze moves to the windshield, his brows dragging together, and I follow his eyes, noticing then that there is a white piece of paper stuck under my wiper. He pulls it out and opens it up, his jaw ticking as he hands it over to me. I read the messy writing with Cohen’s number, then ball up the piece of paper and toss it into my cup holder.
“A fan of yours?”
“An ex of mine,” I tell him, and he lifts his chin, not looking any happier as he takes a step back.
“Meet you at your place.”
“All right,” I agree, and he shuts my door. I watch him in my rearview mirror as he gets into his car, then turn around.
I back out and lead the way to my place, the drive only taking about fifteen minutes, since there is not really any traffic on the road. When I pull into my driveway, he parks behind me, then meets me at my door with his bag in hand. I let us both inside and pull off my shoes, taking them upstairs with me while he leaves his by the front door near my coatrack.
“This is cool.” He walks to the garage door, the early morning light allowing him to see outside.
“It’s the reason I bought this place.” I yawn as he turns to face me. “The bedrooms are upstairs.”
“Lead the way.” He walks toward me with a soft look on his face, then follows me upstairs to the second floor, where we walk past my two spare rooms, a guest bath, and the laundry room.
When we get to my bedroom, I flip on the light, then carry my shoes to my closet, putting them where they belong. I walk out, finding him stripping out of his clothes, and stop in the doorway. I have never had a man in my house before; even when my sister May and I were living together, I never brought a man home. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s weird having you here,” I tell him honestly, going to my dresser to grab a nightgown and a pair of panties. “I’ll be right back.” I go into my bathroom, strip out of my clothes, brush my teeth, and wash away the leftover makeup still on my face.
With my eyes feeling heavy, I open the door and find the room mostly dark, proving that men are capable of figuring out just about any remote without help. I make my way around to the side of the bed I always sleep on and gasp as the duvet is tossed back and a hand grabs mine, pulling me into bed.
“Sleep,” he commands, curling his big body around mine. His lips touch my temple, his arm curls around my waist, his hand going between my legs to cup me, the position the exact one I woke up to with him earlier. I want to tell him that I won’t be able to sleep with him crowding me, but honestly, exhaustion takes over, and my eyes drift closed before I can even open my mouth.
_______________
SITTING IN MY robe at the kitchen island, my hair still wet from my shower, I take a bite of my everything bagel and chew as I watch a shirtless Maxim talk on the phone outside. When he stops at the rail with his back to me, his muscles flex as he leans into it, causing the dimple just above the waistband of his boxers to become more noticeable.
I can honestly say it’s a good thing he doesn’t want a house where his neighbors can see him like he is now. Lord knows the women would be swooning, and the husbands would probably charge his front door with pitchforks and demand he leave the neighborhood. After I swallow, I pick up my coffee, taking a sip, then grab my phone when it starts to ring.