Page 6 of Bear with Me
I didn't know how to respond to Ollie, though part of me wanted to kidnap him and take him back to my apartment. Then I remembered that wouldn't pay the rent, and any potential roommates would probably report me for keeping a man tied to my bed.
Not that I'd do anything inappropriate with him there. It was the only logical place to hide someone his size in my two-bedroom apartment.
I needed to stop thinking about Ollie in my bed, or I was going to sprout an obvious boner in my too-tight suit pants.I didn't usually go for guys who were bigger than me, but he was really fucking attractive. His close-cropped beard was a few shades darker than his golden-brown eyes. Before he'd run his fingers through it nervously while talking to Branson, his hair had been spiked above his forehead. Now, soft waves framed his face, shadowing his eyes from the glare of the entryway light. He looked tired. I wondered how he would look spread out on my bed and well-fucked.
I blinked and found him staring at me. He'd probably been staring this whole time while I daydreamed about tying him to my headboard and wondering what he would look like after sex.
My pulse spiked toward panic attack levels. This guy could twist me into a pretzel and toss me in a closet for the rest of my vacation.
"I'm sorry!" I scrambled to my feet, wiping my palms on my thighs.
He didn't know half of why I apologized, but he smiled, showing his brilliant rows of white teeth, and motioned toward the bedroom. "I'll take the loveseat," he said.
His cheeks darkened a little above his beard. Gods, if the word loveseat made him blush, I wanted to see what else would—no, I did not want to test the limits of the very attractive but very off-limits man. I was on a solitary vacation to clear my head. That did not involve sexy thoughts about my new, unwanted roommate.
Unwanted. Sure. So why had my dick been half-hard since the airport?
"What are you going to do, sleep sitting up?" It was a legitimate question. His ass would fit on the seat, but his shoulders were wider than its arms.
"If I must."
I shook my head. "I can take it for one night, and then we'll hope someone returns a fucking cot tomorrow." The braided rugbefore the empty fireplace offered some padding. "Or I can find a sleeping bag in town tomorrow."
"I'll see what they have for extra bedding." Ollie walked into the bedroom. A few minutes later, he returned empty-handed. "There's a linen closet, but it's bare. I'll check the bathroom next."
I studied the room, looking for something useful to do. The fireplace would have been a good place to start, but I didn't know the first thing about starting a fire.
"Nothing," Ollie hollered from the bathroom. "I'm going to take a quick shower, if that's all right?"
"Yeah, okay."
I usually showered in the mornings, anyway. Right now, I wanted to slip into my pajamas and curl up on the loveseat with my journal.
"Then we'll figure out what to do about food," Ollie called.
Food. Right. It was almost bedtime back home, and my body had skipped right past wanting dinner to wanting sleep instead. Since sleep was probably out of the question for the night, I would settle for comfortable clothes.
I flipped open my suitcase and dug around for my pajamas. They had to be in here somewhere ... .
No, I'd moved them to my carry-on backpack at the last moment, just in case they lost my luggage. Frantically, I pulled the bag onto my lap. My notebook, the last birthday present I'd gotten from my mom, was there. My fingers brushed over my computer, my hat and scarf, and two weeks' worth of socks and underwear, but no pajamas.
I howled in frustration. They were probably still sitting on my bed at home.
"Is everything all right?" Ollie stood in the bathroom doorway in a bath towel that was almost too small to fit around his thick waist. Water droplets still clung to his furry chest.
Finally, my gaze reached his soft brown eyes, and my face burned. I'd been checking him out.
"I left my pajamas at home," I stammered. "I was moving them from my suitcase to my carry-on, but I must have gotten distracted."
Ollie grinned. "You look cute when you're distracted."
Before I could register his words, he draped a second towel over his head. "Food before talking," he mumbled as he shuffled from the bathroom to the bedroom. After a few rustling noises, he returned wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and carrying green sweats and a t-shirt. "They'll be big on you, but they're soft."
I reached for them, and my fingers accidentally brushed his. A tingle sparked up my arm, as though I'd touched a live wire instead of another living person.
"The shower is really nice." Ollie said, "if you want to take a shower."
I hated sleeping with wet hair, but I didn't want to smear plane grime all over his clean clothes. "Yeah, a shower might be good."
