Page 29 of Hold Him Like Gravity

At Rico’s raised brow, I waved it off. “I was about to throw a frozen pizza in the microwave,” I lied as I reached for my mug.

“That’s… one depressing-ass string of words,” Rico decided after a moment.

“They’re not that bad,” I said, mostly meaning it.

“Yeah, they are,” he countered. “Wanna go get a bite?” he asked.

“Of food?” I asked, then closed my eyes for a second, hating how muddled my brain felt when he was standing so close with his scent just swirling around me, making me feel practically drunk on him.

“You bite other shit?” he asked.

“No, I just… ah…”

“Hard question?” he asked.

“No. It’s just… I’m not, you know, dressed for going out.” I was pretty sure it had been two days since I showered, now that I thought about it.

“I got time,” he said, gesturing toward the hallway.

Some part of me wanted to turn him down, to push him out the door, and get back to my research.

The other part, though, knew it was probably good for me to get out, to get out of my head. It might even help me see things more clearly when I came back to it.

“Do you have enough time for me to take a quick shower?”

“You gonna put on more of that lotion?” he asked.

“I think I can manage that,” I said. “I won’t be too long. And no matter what Evander says, he can’t have more treats. He already ate half a bag tonight,” I said, looking at the cat who I swear was just shooting heart-eyes at Rico.

Who could blame him?

As I was walking away, I could swear I could hear Rico mutterWe’ll see about that.And, if I wasn’t completely mistaken, I heard the crinkle of the treat bag as I ducked into the bathroom.

I tried to find the balance of being quick, but also making sure I was clean and smelling good, being hyperaware of how close we’d been in the kitchen.

“Hey, where are we going?” I asked, as I stepped into the hallway in my towel. “So I know what to wear.”

“Whatever you have on is—“ he was saying until he stepped into the hallway and saw me. His gaze slid over me, spending a little extra time on my bare legs and the area above the top of the towel where my chest had been squished together thanks to how tightly I tucked the material. “Probably not going to work,” he finished, voice sounding even thicker than usual. “Which is a shame,” he added. “Wear whatever you want,” he told me.

Typical guy. No help at all.

I rushed into my bedroom, desire still sparking through my veins as I fretted over my options before deciding on black jeans, heeled boots, and a simple white sweater that was, objectively, the nicest thing I’d ever owned, clothing-wise. It had been a lucky find at a secondhand store. I’d been picking my way through the fast fashion junk that was made of such thin material that I was sure it would fall apart after one wash and be horribly see-through even before then. Then there it was. A thick, well-made, designer sweater. For just a couple of bucks.

I bought it even though I figured I’d rarely have use for it. Now, I was glad I had it as I quickly dried my hair.

I’d already taken too much time, so I skipped makeup. But may or may not have applied another quick layer of lotion to my hands and neck.

“We might have to stop at the store to pick up some more treats on the way back,” Rico said, back to me, as he heard me coming.

“He’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

“Says the woman who feeds him more expensive shit than she feeds herself,” he said, turning. “Liked the towel better,” he said, shooting me a little lopsided grin. “But that’ll probably be more appropriate. You ready?”

“Yeah. Are you staying in?” I asked, looking over at Evander who seemed to be on his way to a full-on food coma. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I said as he leapt off of the counter to jump on the back of the couch.

With that, I grabbed my bag and followed my boss out of the apartment. “Oh, that’s good,” I said when we made our way toward the front door, where someone was fixing the lock. “That thing has been broken for a week now. The super didn’t seem too concerned.”

“Yeah, it’s good someone gives a shit,” he said, something in his tone making me watch his profile, but his face wasunreadable. “Here, right here,” he said, his hand going to my lower back as his other raised to gesture toward a car idling by the curb.

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