Page 75 of Diamond In The Rough

“I needed to pee, and I was being quiet.” I bring my hand up to stroke her neck, placing my fingers around to touch the bumps of her spine, and the pad of my thumb against the front of her throat, so when she swallows nervously, it’s all I feel. All I see. “You didn’t have to get up. I didn’t disturb you.”

“I fell asleep with you beside me.” She stands on her toes and studies my lips. Her body warmth, seeping into my skin. “I woke alone.”

“You fell asleep with me inside you.” I draw her higher, until only a hair’s breadth separates our lips. “You missed me.”

She looks to the left, her eyes the only movement, since I hold her face still. “Did not. I don’t miss men in my bed. That’s stupid.”

“Uh huh.” I slide my tongue along her lips, and grin when she opens up. “You missed me. You actually like me, huh?”

“No.”

“Yes you do.” I bring my free hand around to cup her ass, kneading it in my palm until she whimpers. “You hate it. You absolutely loathe the idea of liking me. But here you are, practically naked in your kitchen at three in the morning, wanting me to come back to bed.”

“No.” She turns her face and closes her eyes, but her lips brush over the veins in my wrist. She kisses me, even when she wishes she wouldn’t. “You could leave now and that would be okay. I have to work later, which means I need to sleep now. You don’t have to be here for that.”

“Alright.” I lean in and press a kiss to the very corner of her lips. “Since you’ve made your stance so clear.” Another kiss. “I’ll take my monstera and go.” Releasing her so she stumbles back and her eyes pop open, I sweep up my new plant and turn toward the door. “It was nice fucking you, Ms. Hale. Thanks for dinner. You made for the perfect dessert.”

“No, wait!” She sprints across the space and plasters her back to the door, her chest heaving, and her little slip, lifting and falling with every breath she takes. Her long legs are bare, and my cum, I’m certain, marks her thighs. “I mean…” She gulps. “It’s dark out, right? Super late.”

“I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“But I am…” She looks left. Then right. Anywhere but at me. “If you wanted to stay until morning, I suppose that would be okay.”

I have to swallow my laughter. Choke it down and keep it in the depths of my lungs, or risk another visit with the sharp knife glinting from the other side of the kitchen.

She’s crazy if she thinks I was leaving in my boxer shorts; wandering the halls with no shoes, no wallet, no weapon, and a dying monstera is not really my MO. But I want her to eat her ego and ask me to stay. Stop being so fucking proud, and show me a little affection, so I can stop thinking this is all on me.

I’m not the guy who catches feelings. I don’t stay once we’ve fucked and the deed is done.

But I care about her.

And that reality, that fucking weakness, makes me a little sick to my stomach.

This particular weakness, for a Malone, is essentially a death wish dressed in silk.

“Stay,” she pleads. “Come back to bed with me. For as long as it’s night, we can pretend this isn’t a big deal.”

“And tomorrow?” I turn and set the plant back on the counter. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I wonder out loud, “What happens when the sun rises?”

She draws a deep breath, filling her lungs so her body rises from the door, then exhales again as I glance over my shoulder.

“We go back to you being Micah Malone. You’re the guy whose family isn’t exactly… ya know…” She worries her own lip. “Legal. And I’m the woman who works in antiques and kills plants. We don’t fit together. I’m not allowed to want you. But here, in my apartment…”

“We fit?” I look her seductive body up and down and meander forward, stopping only when her entire frame becomes an inferno, burning my flesh. “For as long as it’s dark, we can pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist?”

She nods. Short, sharp, and jerky enough to let me know how nervous she is.

I set my hands on her hips. “How tired are you?”

“Not at all.” Her eyes flick between mine. “You?”

“Not at all.”

I pick her up, and groan when her legs automatically go around my hips. She was made to wrap around me. Created to fit against my body the way puzzle pieces click together.

I spin us away from the door and walk back into the hall. But instead of stumbling to her bed and throwing us down, I detour to the tiny bathroom and risk both our necks when I set her on the vanity and reach into the shower to flip on the taps.

The cold plastic curtain sticks to my wrist as soon as water touches my flesh, but I bring my focus back to Tiia. To her supple body waiting for me. To her legs, still cinched around my hips.

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