Pushing away the feelings that are bogging me down, I grab my clothes and hurry to the bathroom. For good measure, I lock the door behind me. A new toothbrush still in its packaging sits on the sink. The vanity is stocked with all my favorite caramel-scented products. I wash my face and brush my teeth before dressing quickly. On the side where my brand of toiletries are arranged lies a brush that’s new from the look of it. Grateful for the consideration, I brush the tangles from my hair and let it hang loose around my shoulders. After using the facilities and washing my hands, I take my bag and venture downstairs like a trespasser trying not to make noise.
Like my back, my hip is amazingly devoid of pain when I climb down the stairs. I never thought a mattress could make such a difference. Even though I only slept four hours, I feel amazingly rested. At least physically. Mentally, I’m still a mess.
At the bottom of the stairs, I pause. Thanks to the open layout of the house, I have visibility of the lounge, dining area, and kitchen, which are deserted. Grunting coming from the direction of the courtyard pulls my attention. Making my way toward the sound, I stop in front of the open sliding doors.
A shirtless Leon is doing pushups on the deck, his biceps bunching as he drills his lean body in the early morning sun. He’s dressed only in exercise shorts and sneakers, giving me a prime view of his powerful back. I already had a good look at his body last night, but I can’t help myself from appreciating the male perfection on display. Taller than most men I know, his broad shoulders and narrow waist are developed proportionally. Every muscle is defined, proof that he works hard to keep in shape.
I may as well see myself out while he’s busy and avoid an awkward greeting. It’s not as if we’re going to kiss each other goodbye.
Before he notices me, I walk as quietly as I can to the front door and push down the handle. It’s locked. Damn. There’s no key in the keyhole. I search for a key in all the obvious places, looking for hooks on the wall and even going through some of the drawers of the commode in the entrance. When my search turns out fruitless, I don’t have a choice but to go back to the deck. Stopping on the threshold, I clear my throat.
He finishes the set before pushing to his feet. A sheen of perspiration coats his tanned skin.
“Good morning,” he says, smiling as he grabs a towel from the chair. “Are you done snooping?”
“I wasn’t snooping.” I cross my arms. “I was looking for the key.”
He wipes his face. “So that you could slip out without saying goodbye?”
“Like you slipped out of bed?”
The minute I’ve said it, I want to bite my tongue. I only wanted to imply that he was eager for his privacy too. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.
“Missed me?” he asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes, chucking the towel on the chair.
I force a laugh. “In your dreams.”
He crosses the distance and cups my hips between his palms. “That’s what you said last night.” His voice is husky, thick with nuance. “And yet, here we are.”
I raise a brow. “Are we?” He’s taking too much for granted.
“We ended up in my bed, didn’t we? Don’t forget what I said about daring me, darling.”
Before I can reply, he swoops down and presses his lips on mine. Despite myself, a flame licks over my skin. My body remembers last night’s pleasure. It responds to his touch without my mind’s consent.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks, pulling away to look at my face.
I doubt he’s really interested in how I slept. “I need to get going.”
“You should’ve stayed in bed. I have to be at work by seven, but there was no need for you to get up so early.”
Taking his hands, I remove them from my hips. “I need to go home.”
He gives me a patient smile. “You need to keep some clothes here until we’ve finalized your move. That way, you don’t have to rush home to change.”
Startled, I take a step back. “I’m not moving in with you.”
“I said I’ll give you until the end of the month, and I never go back on my word. You have two more weeks. Until then, you’ll want to sleep over from time to time.”
“I won’t want to do anything of the kind,” I exclaim, backtracking to the lounge.
He follows me deeper inside the house. “Stop contradicting statements that have sure outcomes. You’ll make people think you’re in denial.”
Not listening to more, I turn on my heel and walk as fast as my limp allows to the door. I wait in front of it with my arms crossed for him to unlock the door. He vanishes into the kitchen and returns a moment later with the key. After opening the door and security gate, he walks me to my car and opens the door.