Page 30 of The Workaholic Down the Hall

Aubrey

I was in bed alone when I woke, the late morning sunlight streaming in through the windows. I couldn't stop the smile that whispered up from my belly and exploded onto my face. I just felt so good. I'd slept better than I'd slept in months and I'd loved the feel of Noah's arms around me, his body warm next to me. I knew I'd loved it too much, knew I couldn't get used to it, but that knowledge did nothing to dim my smile.

I shifted and twisted my cumbersome body until I managed to get myself out of bed. I showered and dressed and headed to the kitchen, my stomach rumbling with hunger.

I'd expected to find Noah in the kitchen, but he wasn't there. A flash of movement through the large windows grabbed my attention and I saw him, jogging toward the house in workout shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt. My happy mood slipped just a bit when my heart flipped at the sight of him. This wasn't just lust. What the hell was happening to me? How had one night in his arms, one night of sleeping, made me exponentially crazier about him than I'd been before? I hadn't thought it was possible for me to be more head over heels than I already was. I shook it off. It was probably just hormones. Hormones and possible insanity.

Before I'd figured it out, he was in the kitchen, breathing hard and kicking off his tennis shoes. He smiled and my chest tightened. “How're you feeling?” he asked. “You were sleeping so hard you didn't even move when I got out of bed.”

“I feel amazing. Thank you for sleeping with me.”

His grin widened. He crossed the room and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me tight against his hard, sweaty body. “It wasn't exactly a hardship.”

I couldn't breathe and it had nothing to do with how hard he was hugging me or the faint whiff of BO wafting off his sweaty body. Other than that slight scent, he smelled insanely good for a man who hadn't showered and had been exercising. No, I couldn't breathe because his hug felt too good, too natural, like we were a couple. I could so easily slip into that fantasy.

I pushed out of his arms. “You're all sweaty.” I feigned disgust. “And I just showered.” I hurried over to the fridge and flung the door open. I pretended to look over the breakfast options, but I was really just trying to cool off and get my head on straight. Friends. We were just friends.

“Hungry?” Noah asked. “I can make us breakfast.”

“How about I make breakfast while you shower?” I didn't know how to make anything more complicated than cereal, but anything was better than being in that room with him a moment longer.

“Are you sure that won't be too much for you? You should rest.”

“I have more energy than I've had in weeks.” Did I sound way too excited about that? He really needed to get out of the kitchen. “I need something to do.”

He nodded and left. I grabbed every box of cereal in the place and arranged them artfully on the counter. I thought of him lathering soap over his smooth skin, his muscles rippling. I put two bowls in front of the cereal boxes. Noah was probably rinsing off the soap, hands in his hair, his triceps flexing as he stretched and rinsed. I put two spoons next to the two bowls and managed not to drop the jug of milk I placed on the counter next, even though I was feeling a bit overwhelmed and hot. Noah was probably stepping out of the shower and maybe, since it had been a while since he'd had a release, he was wrapping his hand around his—

“How's it coming?” Noah asked.

I screeched like a woman who'd been caught peeking at her roommate's porn collection and slapped a hand over my mouth.

Noah patted my back. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit?”

“I'm fine.” My cheeks were so hot I thought they might be on fire. “You just surprised me.”

He smirked like he knew I was lying and looked at my cereal arrangement. “That looks so much better than the ziti I made.”

“Wouldn't be hard to beat that meal,” I said. “I don't know what kind of cereal you like, so I just set them all out.”

He sat at the counter and smiled. “I like all kinds of cereal. This is perfect.”

I sat next to him and we crunched on our cereal in silence. I was surprised he'd picked a sugary kids' cereal. When I'd had breakfast at his place in the past, for totally platonic reasons, he'd usually just had coffee.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked when we'd both finished eating and he'd cleaned up breakfast.

I stared at him for a long moment, my mind snapping back to my imaginings of his shower and of what I'd like to be doing. I mentally slapped myself. “Are there any options other than Monopoly, television, or books?”

His gaze grew misty and his lips ticked up in a wicked smile before he caught himself, swallowed hard and shook his head. “I thought you might have a baby book I could read. I'd like to have some idea of what to expect.”

My heart warmed and swelled. I loved that he wanted to read about the baby, wanted to prepare for the baby. “Of course. I've got about ten.”

His smile was fond. “Of course you do.”

We spent the day reading books, him baby and parenting books, me a magical realism book Nora had left, and talking about the baby and what we hoped and wanted for her. That night, after a dinner of spaghetti, we watched a movie on the couch and I fell asleep on him again. I woke up the next morning in my bed, wrapped in his arms. My heart ached with fear at how attached I was getting to having him in my bed, but I was so much more comfortable sleeping on him that I couldn't bear to kick him out.

He woke up moments after I did. “Hi,” he said, his voice scratchy, his eyes sleepy. His focus dropped to my mouth when I said good morning, and he licked his own lips. My body pressed closer against him like it had a mind of its own and I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from leaning over and kissing him.

He growled and swore. I started to pull away from him, but he yanked me back, pulling me tight against him and allowing me to feel that a very special part of him was very happy to see me. “Noah—”

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