I swallow, thinking the view is pretty fantastic, even better than the sleepy city lights from the hallway outside his condo door. I wouldn’t survive walking in here to him in nothing but boxers or completely naked. My heart is having a hard time keeping up right now as it is.
With the beard, I guess I should’ve considered the possibility of a hairy chest, but wow, just wow. My fingers itch to touch him, to trace the muscles of his torso, circle around his nipples, and then—
“Hayden?” He’s grinning when I snap my eyes up to his. “Am I making you uncomfortable? I can go put on—”
“No! I mean. It’s your place. Wear as much or as little as you like. I mean—”
“Coffee?” He holds up the half-full pot, saving me from further embarrassment. “I like it when your cheeks turn pink like that.”
I duck my head, my fingers pressing to the warmth below my eyes. “I’d love a cup of coffee. Thank you.”
“Were you able to get any rest?”
“Not really,” I answer honestly. “I couldn’t turn my brain off.”
“Understandable. Cream? Sugar?”
“Black is fine. Thank you.”
His fingers brush mine when he passes me the cup, and either I’m losing my mind or haven’t had enough sleep to function properly because a wave of heat runs from the tips of his fingers all the way up my arm. I swear it settles on the tip of my breast, and I nearly moan at the contact.
“You okay?”
“Wonderful,” I lie as I lift the cup to my lips and take a tiny sip. “This is delicious.”
He laughs, a deep baritone sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “It’s Folgers. Simple man, remember? Did you let your friend know where you are?”
“I shot her a text earlier. I can ask her if I can stay at her place.”
“I want… until we know what’s going on, I’d prefer you to stay here. There’s no sense in putting anyone else in danger.”
“Okay,” I agree quickly.
He turns around to fill his own cup, but I catch the smile on his handsome face before he can hide it fully.
“I was thinking maybe—”
A knock hits his door, but instead of looking surprised, he seems annoyed as he places his cup of coffee back on the counter to go and answer it.
“I apologize in advance,” he mutters before opening the door without even looking through the peephole.
A pretty girl with purple hair steps in first, followed by Wren, the guy who installed the security system.
“Hayden, lovely to see you again. This is Whitney, my girlfriend.”
Whitney crosses the room offering me her hand. “I want to apologize for last night.”
I look from her to Quinten in confusion.
“Wren and Whitney live next door.” He angles his head in the direction we heard the noises last night.
My eyes widen, and he rolls his lips inward.
“We get a little out of control every once in a while,” Whitney continues.
Quinten scoffs.
“Often. We get a little wild quite often, honestly. We’ll keep it down.”
Wren coughs.
“We’ll try to keep it down.”
“I thought you were in the guest bedroom?” Wren says.
“I am,” I rush out.
Wren turns to Quinten with a devious look in his eye. “Then why is it a problem?”
“She’s in the master, which I use as the spare,” Quinten explains, and I feel another rush of heat on my face. “I’m in the spare, which I use as the master.”
I just made it sound like I was in his room with him last night, and although I don’t hate the idea of that, I don’t know these people. They may not care who hears or knows what they’re doing in the privacy of their own home, but I’m not one to share information like that with strangers, or anyone for that matter.
“I kind of feel bad the man moved out of the bigger bedroom,” Whitney whispers. I look at her in confusion, wondering how they could play a part in him moving. She must notice because she leans in even closer like we’ve been friends for years. “The masters in these condos share a wall.”
“Okay. Well, lovely. It was nice to meet you, but I have to get to work.”
“We’re really sorry, Hayden. I just wanted to come over and introduce you to my girl so you can see she wasn’t being hurt last night,” Wren says with much more ease than anyone should have talking about the subject. I’m not a prude, but time and place, fella.
“My butt is still a little sor—”
“You heard the lady,” Quinten interrupts. “Thanks for stopping by. Next time, call first so we can pretend to be gone.”
Both Wren and Whitney laugh as they leave the condo.
Quinten rests his back against the door with wide eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You had to switch rooms?” He nods. “That’s what you meant by if they’re making too much noise?”