Page 121 of Doughn't Let Me Go

I grab the bottle as my response, then glance up to the beauty in my lap, the one smiling down at me with delight.

“Tequila Clause?” she teases.

“Tequila Clause.”

And I take a drink.

Slice Sixteen

Doris

Porter hasn’t mentioned going back to California since the night we hung out at Winston and Drew’s.

Granted, he got pretty drunk—and naked—that night, so maybe he doesn’t remember it.

He’s upstairs in his office with Fran right now going over some things. She keeps offering to take more off his plate, and he keeps refusing. I can see the frustration growing, and I know exactly how she feels. Porter pays both of us way too much money and doesn’t allow us to help him out nearly enough. It’s almost like he’s too afraid to let himself get comfortable and relax. Like he’s scared if he does, the rug will be yanked out from underneath him.

I can relate to that too.

It’s why no matter how badly I want to, I can’t let myself feel anything for Porter other than physical attraction.

It’s getting harder and harder to maintain the lines we drew in the beginning.

Like this morning, I leaned over to him when he was still asleep and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. I don’t know why I did it, but Ihadto. It could have been the way the morning light was shining across him, highlighting the stress wrinkles forming around his eyes. Or maybe it was just that I wanted to do it, that I missed the way his lips felt against mine.

He didn’t stir, so I know he didn’t feel me, but I felt it.

I felt it all.

The emotions pouring out of me.

I want Porter.

I want himbad.

Especially since I have a sinking feeling he’ll be going back to California soon. He hasn’t said anything directly to me, but I’ve heard him mention a move a few times since Fran went up there. It’s not that I’m eavesdropping, I just keep having to walk by the staircase.

I’m trying not to let the feeling seep into my skin and affect me.

Ican’tlet it affect me. That’s not what we agreed to.

No feelings. Just sex.

So why does the thought of him leaving make me feel like it does?

Stop thinking about it, Dory. It could be nothing.

I bustle quickly to the laundry room, grabbing what feels like my tenth load of clean laundry from the dryer. How the hell does a seven-year-old go through this many outfits?

“Ah, there you are.” Porter’s voice startles me and I nearly jump out of my skin, dropping an armload of clothes onto the floor.

He winces. “Sorry. I thought you heard me clomping down the stairs.”

“Lost in thought,” I explain. “Were you looking for me?”

He leans back, looking left and right, then saunters into the laundry room, a sly grin stretched across his lips.

God, I want to kiss him again.

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