Page 67 of Tempt Thy Neighbor

I snort. “Yes, your massive manhood has just wrecked me.”

“Oh, so it’s massive, not just huge?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s adequate.”

He leans into me. “Shaking legs, Holland. Shaking. Legs.”

“Quit bragging and eat your breakfast.” I shove his face away. “We apparently need the fuel.”

“Is that a yes for our sexcapades?”

This time I do roll my eyes.

It’s beena week since we first slept together, and things are slowly getting back to normal with us—if you don’t count the fact that I’ve been sleeping in Sutton’s bed every night and we’ve spent countless hours learning each other’s body. Or the fact that we don’t talk about what any of this means. We just…talk. It feels just like it used to before everything crashed and burned before it got the chance to fly.

We avoid any discussion ofus.

We just simplyare.

I’ve been trying to not get attached to him this last week. I don’t want to let myself get attached. I don’t want to get too invested in whatever it is that’s happening between us.

Been there, done that, got the scars on my heart to prove it.

I’m not looking for a repeat of that heartache.

I wrap a towel around myself, then wipe off the steam on the mirror just as Sutton struts into view.

“You’re totally going to take over my bathroom, aren’t you?” he asks as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans—something I didn’t know was incredibly attractive until right this second—and leans against the doorframe.

I watch in the mirror as his eyes scan me from head to toe, lingering on the spots covered by a towel as if he could see through it if he stared hard enough.

“One hundred percent,” I answer, grabbing my comb that’s sitting on the sink and running it through my hair. “It was a huge reason I fell in love with this apartment in the first place.”

“That and how close it is to your brother. It must be nice to have a sibling you don’t have to compete with. Someone you can just co-exist with and not constantly be living in their shadow.”

I’m not sure if most people would pick up on the pain lacing his voice, but I do, and my heart aches for him.

I don’t know Sutton’s parents very well outside of the events we’ve attended over the years, but I do know that even though my parents aren’t the warmest, they’re practically loving compared to his.

First and foremost, he was a Barnes. Image always came first, and he was expected to live his life according to their rules. Sutton was expected to dress a certain way, act a certain way, and entertain certain people. Everything had to be perfect to protect the image.

I can’t imagine having to live under that sort of pressure.

“Anyway,” he says, “I was actually coming in here for a reason. And no, that reason wasn’t just to see you in a towel.”

“Well, you’re not seeing me naked either. We spent the entire morning in bed, and I need to recover.”

Something that seems to be a trend with us.

At work, we keep it professional.

But at home…at home we can’t keep our hands off each other.

Every night when we walk in the door, we practically leap at one another and race to the bedroom. Sometimes we don’t even make it that far.

“From the good dickin’ I gave you?”

I shake my head, turning to face him. “What do you want, Sutton?”

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