Page 38 of Room for Us

“I saw that.”

“Shut up.”

The sheets go straight to the laundry room—I didn’t buy multiple sets for his fancy ass—and while they’re being washed, I dust, polish wood surfaces, vacuum, and clean the windows. Besides his reading glasses and a paperback on the nightstand, and a closed laptop and notebook on the desk, there’s zero clutter. Nothing remotely interesting in the trash can, either, besides a few receipts and gum wrappers. The closet is equally uninteresting—it houses his deflated duffel and a pair of slippers. Pants and a single shirt occupy hangers. On the floor next to the duffel is the small, folded stack of laundry I left outside his room late last night.

“Who are you, Ethan Hart?” I whisper.

My vow of decency stays in the closet when I close the door. Driven by instinct, I head to the desk and open the black notebook, flipping through the first handful of pages. Scribbles. Lots and lots of lines, messy words, arrows, more jumbled words, and angry underlining. I have no idea what I’m looking at besides the work of a complex mind.

“What are you doing?” grumbles a voice behind me.

“Motherfuck!” I slam the notebook closed and spin around. “You scared me!”

His feral eyes glow with accusation. “You’re invading my privacy. I wonder which is worse.”

“I-I—”

My mind is an empty vista, struck dumb by the sight of his glistening bare torso. Broad, chiseled shoulders frame a chest that shouldn’t exist outside a wet dream: light dusting of hair across flat pecs, perfect small nipples, washboard abs, and a delectable happy trail that my eyes greedily follow straight to…

I throw my hands over my eyes. “Oh God. I’m sorry. Sorry. I was cleaning, and I’m waiting for the sheets, and shit. I’ll be going now.”

I try to dart past him, but his hand whips out like a lasso. His fingers band around my bicep and pull me backward. My heel slips. My spine hits the immovable wall of his chest. I hit something else, too, with my bottom half. It presses heavy and thick against my lower back, right above the crevasse of my ass.

I freeze, not breathing, as every nerve ending below my waist perks up and hollers, Yes, please and thank you, we like, we want, is big is big, wherever, anywhere, we want that!

“Admit it,” he growls, labored breath against my ear. “You were snooping.”

“You have an erection!” I screech, horrified and aroused and beyond rationality. “It’s touching me!”

I hear his heavy swallow, which only makes me more aware of said erection and the fact that it seems to be getting bigger by the second.

“You’re mistaken about the last part, Zoey. You’re the one touching it.”

And… dammit, he’s right.

His hand isn’t on my arm anymore, probably hasn’t been for a while. Sure, he hasn’t moved away, but it’s me who’s been standing here, pressed against him, hyper-focused on the way our bodies fit, the way he commands all the space behind me, and how ultra-feminine I feel in the shadow of his shoulders.

And for some fucking reason, even though I should move—need to move—I can’t. He mutters something I can’t hear over the roar of blood in my ears, then he finally takes initiative. Only not in the way I expect.

Hot, strong hands slide along my waist, beneath my arms, and rise to cup my breasts. I gasp in strangled delight, my hips twitching as shockwaves of heat zip to my core. He isn’t gentle as he squeezes them, as he finds my nipples and pinches, as he simultaneously pulls me back and drives his hips forward.

The sound that comes out of my mouth isn’t human but animal in its need.

“Fuck,” he whispers, right before his teeth land on the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

He bites down.

I convulse and see stars.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasps, dragging his hands down my stomach. My shirt is yanked up. His fingers find the drawstring on my pants. “Say something, Zoey.”

I open my mouth to tell him that if he stops, I’ll kill him.

The doorbell rings.

I lurch forward like I’ve been electrocuted, which isn’t far from the truth. His hands fall away, leaving me bereft and doused in shame.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp and flee from the room.

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