Page 39 of Confessions of a Smutty Romance Author

He pushed off the wall and walked past me, his shoulder brushing mine. Goosebumps erupted on my skin. I rubbed my arm and waited until he was safely in his own bedroom to venture farther out.

I heard the shower come on, and I was thankful I’d stifled my own sounds while I’d been in there. I felt a little embarrassed now; I’d been in there touching myself and thinking of him while he’d been doing what he could to get me out of his bed.

I tried not to think about it as I went to his kitchen, to look around if nothing else. The cabinets were a sleek white, and when I looked inside, I was impressed to find he actually had matching sets of dishes, unlike me. I saved cups from every restaurant that would let me have them and bought most of my dishes second-hand.

Even though I’d been supporting myself comfortably for years, I still had a hard time spending money on things like that. I’d rather see money sitting in my bank account than in my cabinets.

I switched from his cabinets to the pantry and was even more impressed. Each of the boxes were lined up neatly, and there was some organization going on too with wire baskets. I wondered if that had been Tess’s doing as well.

And then I found the refrigerator with French doors. In the freezer side, there was a tub of ice cream—a brand I actually liked—some meat and bags of vegetables. Pretty standard. The refrigerator side didn’t even look like a bachelor’s fridge. Sure, there was beer and salsa, but he had bread stored, sandwich fixings, a few bagged salads. Even a tub of hummus, which I got out to have with some of the pita chips I saw in his pantry.

It was more than late, so I only ate a few before packing it back up and putting it away.

As I walked back down the hallway toward Jonas’s room, I saw him stepping out of the bedroom. I’d half expected him to wear an old-man pajama set to bed, but his snug-fitting white T-shirt and gray sweatpants caught me more than a little off guard.

And if he looked like that without a hard-on... Fuck.

My eyes had strayed down south for a little too long, so I quickly looked back up at him and said, “I’m tired.”

“Me too. I’m going to grab a glass of water and go to bed. Do you want anything?”

I wasn’t used to people taking care of me, so the gesture, even if it was small, felt big to me. My therapist said I needed to get used to accepting help from others, so I nodded and said, “That would be nice. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He seemed genuinely pleased to be able to get me a glass of water.

I tried to settle my nerves as I went to his bed. If growing up in my family home had taught me anything, it was that good things never came without strings attached.

But that wasn’t my life. Not anymore. I wasn’t a little girl trying to navigate the world, taking on beliefs my parents had given me about myself.

I got to choose.

So I chose to walk into Jonas’s bedroom, set my phone on the bedside table, and get underneath the covers. They smelled like fresh laundry detergent. I pulled them up to my chin, taking in the softness and fresh scent, thinking Jonas really did live in a spa.

“Here you go,” he said, walking through the door, carrying two glasses of water. I shifted up, resting my back against the upholstered headboard, and took a glass from him. The cube inside was large, bigger than a golf ball.

“You have fancy ice cubes too?” I asked, staring at it.

He laughed. “They keep the water colder longer, so if I wake up in the middle of the night wanting a drink, it’s still cold.”

“The untold brilliance of Jonas Moore.” I took a sip, feeling the heavy ice cube—ice ball?—against my lips.

I set it on the table next to my phone and lay down again.

Jonas did too, and we were quiet for a moment.

I’d never slept next to a man withoutsleepingwith him. I felt like Ricky Bobby inTalladega Nights. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. “This is awkward, right?” I asked, turning on my side and resting my head in my hand.

He laughed, doing the same. The room was dim, sans our bedside lamps, but his eyes seemed brighter than ever. “I’m glad it’s not just me.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

“Why aren’t you married yet?” He seemed like the dream guy for every girl who wanted to settle down with a house full of kids.

He let out a humorless laugh and rolled to his back. Then, looking over at me, he asked, “Do you want the real story?”

I nodded.

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