Page 21 of Forbidden You

“You have a cleaning lady?” She slowly ambles back to me.

“That surprises you?” I quirk up a brow.

I like my house clean, tidy and organized, but that doesn’t mean I like doing it myself.

“I guess not. If you live in a place like this, you sure as fuck can afford to never clean again.”

She halts right in front of me, just close enough for me to smell a hint of that intoxicated honey and rose shampoo, but not close enough for me to scold her about the lack of distance. My stomach flutters and I suppress the groan that wants to follow.

“So, where do you sleep?” Her voice is lower than I want it to be, and I do my best to keep a straight face, ignoring the small jolt of my dick.

Here’s a thought; wherever I get to fuck you first.

God, I hate being the sensible one.

“The right side of the house is mine. Don’t go there.” I sound angry, but really, I’m not. Or maybe I am. I don’t really know. “I gotta go make some calls, then get back to the office. You get settled in and start tomorrow.”

I need to get the fuck out of here, because I’m just a nano second away from deciding that I don’t want to be the sensible one anymore. So before she can hold me there with just one more glance, I make a straight line to my side of the apartment.

“Do I need to do anything? Cook dinner or something?” she calls out behind my back.

“Nope, I’ll bring some dinner when I get back,” I retort, without turning around. “If there’s anything you need, just ask Jason when he gets up.”

At a fast pace, I stride into my suite before I slam the door behind me. I push the air out of my lungs, dropping my back against the door as I close my eyes.

Fuckeddoesn’t even come close to what I am.

If this is how my body responds to having her around me for an hour, how the hell am I going to be able to keep her here for a month if I can’t touch her. I was being a dick to her earlier, but I can’t seem to find a response that’s anything in between.

Either I want to kiss her, or I’m mad at her. Mad at myself. Because I piss myself off for not being able to stop looking at her like she’s going to warm my bed whenever I want.

I bounce off the door with a grunt, then throw myself onto the bed, pulling out my phone. With my arm covering my eyes, I call the one person to bitch about, ready to throw out all of my frustration.

You better fucking pick up.

“Before you start yelling at me,” Rae says as soon as the dial tone stops, “I didn’t know she was going to sneak out in the middle of the night. Though she did sneak out of Stanford, so that could’ve been an indication.” The last sentence comes out in a mumble.

“You couldn’t have given me a heads up?”

“I saw the note five minutes ago!” she defends. “It’s my day off. I got to sleep in, and Jensen doesn’t notice shit when he sleep walks out of here for practice.”

“She was in my office with a suitcase, Rae.”

“I can imagine.”

“Oh, but that’s not all!” I disclose, sharply. “She has no place to stay. She just hopped onto the first flight out here, winging it.”

“What?! Where is she staying?” The sound of her voice is laced with worry, and I roll my eyes at the denseness of her question.

“Where do you think?”

Silence.

More silence.

Until I snap. “Withme, Rae!”

A soft“Oohhh”is audible through the line, and I push out a sarcastic chuckle.

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