Page 37 of Filthy and the Beast

“Oh! With me?”

“No,” I sputter out, humiliated. “Sorry. Thought that’s what you meant.”

Damian rushes over to me. “Enzo,” he says gently while he grabs my hand. “Hey, it’s okay.”

I look at the ground. Goldie stares up at me, judging.

He said something last night about not committing. Why am I such a sad sack of shit? Should have known he wasn’t interested in me. I’m too old, too grumpy, too inexperienced.

No way in hell.

“Hey.” Damian rubs his thumb across the back of my knuckles, and I look up. “I was just clarifying. And yes, I am agreeable to that, too,” he adds with a flirty smile.

“Oh.” I lift my coffee mug. My hand is shaky, so I set it back down. “Okay.”

“With ground rules.” Releasing my hand, Damian turns back to the stove. “I’m only in your employ for another week-plus, but we are roommates on top of our professional relationship. We need clear boundaries and expectations in place if we’re going to maintain a healthy work-life-sex balance. Precautions in case you end up dickmatized.”

Dickmatized?

Shit. What did I just get myself into?

But he’s right. There’s just over a week left, and the panic rising up when I think of Damian leaving overpowers all the doubts and insecurities clouding my brain.

He’s mine for one week.

Need to treat him right.

“Never talked about this kind of thing before,” I tell him. “Boundaries and expectations.”

Damian flips some pancakes onto a plate, seeming surprised. “You’ve never had a conversation about boundaries and expectations? Like, never?”

Probably would have talked about it with Miranda, if we had ever been together. If she had chosen me. But most of the women I’ve been with, we just talk about the night, end it by morning.

Fear rises up. I might be such an inexperienced fool he’ll decide to leave me. “Whatever you need,” I tell him, embarrassed. “Fine with me.”

“I appreciate that,” he says softly. Damian considers me for a minute. I stand there, sweating in my boxers, and he retrieves some blueberries and cream from the fridge. Finally, he drops the first breakfast plate in front of me with a thoughtful nod.

Wish I knew how to say the right thing.

“How about this.” He holds my eye. “You take until tomorrow to ponder things. Consider what you want from me and this experience. I’ll do the same, and tomorrow, we’ll talk again. See if we can make each other happy.”

Yes. I will make him happy.

I straighten my back, rising to full height. “Okay.” The only word I manage to force out, but I say it clearly, holding his eye, trying to tell him more.

His smile twitches, and his eyes point up, meeting my gaze from behind his thick-rimmed glasses. For a minute, it’s possible to believe he understands me, knows what I’m really thinking even when I don’t.

“Okay,” he repeats, seemingly satisfied. “Enough processing for now. It’s pancake time.”

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

DAMIAN

Enzo is so damnadorable I almost burn our pancakes.

We’re going to have sex again, and it’s going to be fucking hot. Hell yeah.

When I saw him in the garden, I’m not sure what I expected. Awkward evasion and heterosexual shame seemed distinct possibilities. But Enzo didn’t run away. Even when I poked at him and tried to make him talk about his emotions, he didn’t balk.

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