Page 163 of Worthy

He leans back on the edge of his desk, his thick thighs spread before him, and I wrench my eyes away before I start drooling.

“Oh god, stop looking at me like that,” I grumble, shifting on my feet.

He doesn’t say a word, just stares.

Gah, this man! He’s just pulling the truth right out of me. Like a wizard.

“Fine. I had a…scuffle with one of my roommates,” I say cautiously.

He continues staring, and I wave my hand around in front of me.

“And…I might have slept in my car last night because technically, I’m homeless now.”

His hands clutch tightly on to the edge of his desk, his nostrils flaring.

“And you didn’t think to call me?” he finally asks.

Like I would ever. He’s my boss, not even my friend. And most definitely not my lover.

I fold my arms back across my chest and arch an eyebrow at thisridiculousman. It’s all a bit of bravado though because if I knew he felt even an ounce of what I feel for him, I would step between those legs of his and let him hold me.

I could use a hug after last night.

But it will never be like that.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth and chewing on it.

Dean’s eyes swivel briefly down to my mouth and then he asks, “Where will you stay tonight?”

I shrug, not feeling overly concerned because I have been on my own for quite a while and I have always managed. “I’ll figure it out.”

He taps a rhythm on the wood of his desk, the ring on his thumb clanking against it noisily.

“No. You’ll stay with me.”

My eyes snap up to his. “Um, what? Dean, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition. You have your shit?”

I scoff because I didn’t think to grab anything when I made my escape. I was just glad to be out of that toxic living environment. Not to mention they’d kind of, sort of locked me out anyways. I couldn’t go back if I’d tried.

Homophobic assholes.

“Do you, or don’t you have your stuff?” he asks, and I roll my eyes very dramatically.

“I don’t have it. It’s still at the apartment.”

“We’ll grab it at lunch,” he says and then nods, likeyep, it’s settled.

It’s not settled. Not at all.

“Dean,” I begin. “I’m not staying with you. What about Ben?”

“Ben took the room over the detached garage. I have a spare room in the house that’s all yours.”

Oh god, living with him…I am going to need to jack off like morning, noon, and night. What if he walks around in a tiny towel after a shower or walks around in nothing at all? My heart will not survive. I should make a will for when I eventually expire.

In fact, I should call a lawyer on my break. I need someone to leave my high heels to.

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