Page 6 of One Dirty Night

He avoided my eyes as he rucked up his cuffs again, sending the tendons in his forearms popping. Something crinkled in his front pocket. What was that? A condom? It sounded more like paper. Oh shit, was that his health certificate that the circus requested? Was he really going to a sexfest, or was my mind utterly defective?

“Oh yeah, right. Guess I’ll just go get something to eat then. Perhaps head to a bar and watch the highlights of the baseball game last night.” He cocked his head, looking at me with his usual disdain. “Why? What are you up to?”

I forgot how to swallow. The air in our small house shattered into temptation. If I wasn’t sitting on the couch, my knees would’ve wobbled. And my knees never wobbled under the stare of any man.

“Just going to sit here and read.”

No way. Lying again.

I was done.

Done feeling out of control.

Done trying to be in control.

“Sounds good,” he muttered.

I smiled sickly sweet. “Yep. Well, I guess...goodnight?”

Nicholas scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, you too. Eh, enjoy your book.” His eyes darkened, going more green than hazel as they landed on my legs. I’d put on teal yoga leggings, and they clung to every inch.

My stomach tightened; I swore he frowned. Could he smell the pheromones cooking inside me? Could he see how close I was to just saying ‘fuck it, I give in’ and throwing myself into his strong arms?

I’d never wanted to jump a platonic flatmate before. Especially not this flatmate, but dammit, there was something about him. There always had been. For eight months, I’d convinced myself I harboured no such feelings for him, but lying to oneself was exhausting.

My attraction to him tonight seemed worse than usual, though.

And I blamed that damn circus.

My imagination raced out of control.

Where is he truly going?

My mind drowned in questions I would never, ever ask. Was he into the same things as me? Was he tempted by the unknown—by the thought of whips and ropes and pain? Did he harbour deviant desires that no one admitted to unless they were in a club with an alias and wearing a mask to hide all their secrets?

“You’re not going to a bar, are you?” I slapped a hand over my mouth the moment the words were free.

Oh.

My.

God.

It wasn’t my business. He could be going to a friend’s house. Or doing exactly what he would typically do and head into the lab despite the orders to stay away.

Jesus, Ella.

His eyebrows flew into his hairline; his jaw clenched with haughty arrogance. “Course I’m going to a bar. Where the hell else would I be going this late?”

My nether regions tingled at the thought of him going to get his freak on with a total random. I bit my lip as an image of me being that random filled my head. Problem was, I lived with the man—and if by some miracle he ever touched me, it would make our living situation unbearable afterward.

My eyes dropped to his lips. Was he a good kisser?

What’s his secret fantasy?

I sucked in a breath and did my best to get myself under control. “Sorry. Don’t know why I doubted you. You’re Nicholas Davis. Of course, you’d never lie.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

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