Page 67 of Tied Up in Riches

Avery: I feel like we are missing some crucial information.

Brooke: I’ll fill you in on the details when we get back. But long story short, I couldn’t finish. Has that ever happened to you guys?

Lexy: Oh yeah. It was as rare as a leap year for me before I met Troy. Now it’s not a problem since he knows me so well.

Maci: I feel like it was easier for me when I was in college. Like almost every time. Now, I swear it’s harder when I’m in different parts of my cycle. Being a girl sucks sometimes.

Avery: I talked to my doctor about it. After Canaan was born, it never happened. But my doctor said that libido and orgasms are strongly linked to stress.

Maci: Definitely not something to be ashamed of.

Brooke: It’s not that. Just frustrated. I think I’m falling for him, and I’m not sure if I should yet.

Lexy: Where are you right now?

Brooke: Hiding in the bathroom in our room.

Lexy: I vote you go out there and kiss him without an audience and find out.

Avery: I second that.

Maci: Me three!

Brooke: What if he doesn’t want it and it’s awkward?

Lexy: Or what if he’s out there having the exact same dilemma as you?

Leaving my phone on the counter, I take a breath and creak open the door before I lose my nerve.

“You decent?” I’m not sure if he’s planning to take a shower or if he’s already in his athletic shorts and T-shirt in bed. When he doesn’t respond, I exit the bathroom to the room, dimly lit by the soft yellow glow of the nightstand lamp, and find him sitting at the desk, leaning back in the chair while reading something on his phone.

He glances up and his finger freezes on the screen. He’s still wearing his suit, minus the jacket, and his tie is loosened, the top button of his shirt undone. Holy hell he’s sexy.

I fidget with the hem of my new pajama top with one hand, crossing the other arm across my chest and linking it on my tricep. “Thank you.”

He tosses his phone on the desk like nothing could be as important as this moment. But surely that’s not true. I’m sure he was just doing something mindless. Scrolling. Playing a game. Though, I’ve never seen him play a game before. Or on social media. “You’re welcome.” He stands. “Do you like them?”

“I liked your shirt more.” The words slip out before I can stop them.

He steps closer. “Is that an insult or a compliment?”

“Both, I guess. And neither. I love this.” I glance down at myself. “But I love the way your shirt smells.”

“It’s sandalwood.” His voice is low, controlled, sure.

I look up and take a quick inhale to steady my shaky breath. “It’s you.”

His arms fold across his chest, his hand coming to his face to brush his thumb across his lip. Both of our arms serve as added barriers between us. Is that intentional? On my part or his? Out of fear? Or uncertainty? I want to cross this line, but I’m still doubtful about if I should, if that’s what he wants too.

“I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

Last night? What about tonight? We are not on the same page. My body deflates at the realization, my arms falling from over my chest to twist and link my fingers together in front of me.

His finger locks under my face, his thumb pressing into my chin as he tilts my gaze. “Tonight too,” he adds, like he can read my mind, and takes a step closer. His body screams certainty, but his ocean-blue eyes swirl with hesitation.

“What about last night?”

His hand slides along my jaw until his fingers are locked into my hair. “My fingers inside you.”

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