Page 42 of Solid Ground

“No, but my life just didn’t work out the way I’d thought it would.” She smiles. “Mind you, I also didn’t anticipate creating Date Me and the deal to sell it.” Her eyes meet mine. “If things don’t work, Declan, and you want to go back to your life, you know we’ll be okay, right?”

“I do know that, but I have no intention of going anywhere.”

Knowingwe’ll be in each other’s pockets leaves me restless. We’ve gone from a one-night stand to not only living together, but being at home together all the time.

Is that really a good way to get to know someone?

The first night I was here, I slept well knowing that Zoe and the baby were safe under the same roof as me. The second night, I toss and turn, wondering how quickly she’ll get sick of me being under her feet.

When daylight peeps through the curtains, I give in and make my way to the kitchen to get started on breakfast.

Zoe’s beaten me to it.

I breathe in the heady smell of coffee, and come to a stop when I reach the living room.

Oh dear God.

She exits the kitchen, dressed in a shirt and a pair of pink cotton panties.

Is she trying to kill me?

Sitting at her desk, she places her mug beside her laptop and opens the laptop lid.

It’s far too late for my cock, which is already standing to attention. I shift my gaze to the floor.

The Band-Aid on her foot makes me wince.

Zoe looks up. “You okay?”

“I … uhhh … I was just reminded of yesterday. Is your foot sore?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine.” Cracking a smile, she stands. “See? Good as gold. It was an accident, Declan. I’m all good.”

“Doesn’t make me feel less guilty.”

She crosses the room and grips my arm. “Please don’t. I just have to get used to living with someone again.”

“Uhh, I can tell.”

Her eyes widen, and she looks down at what she’s wearing. She lifts her hand from my arm and slaps her palm across her mouth before letting out a loud giggle.

“Oh my god. I never wear pants when I’m working at home.”

“I’ve seen you naked, but I’m not sure if I can cope with this every day.”

One of her brows arches, and her gaze sweeps down to my groin.

Oh God, have mercy.

“That’s not helping.” The words leave my lips before I can help it. Is that going to upset her? Is she ever going to trust me if I’m walking around with a hard-on twenty-four hours a day?

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is husky, which just makes it worse.

“I think I’m going to have to start every day with a coldshower if you’re prancing around in your underwear,” I grumble.

She laughs again. “I wish I could say I was sorry, but it’s good to know I still have that effect.”

“Why would you not?” I hold out my palms. “You know I think you’re beautiful.”

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