“I’m Michael Edwards, and Iownthis apartment.” She freezes, bright eyes slowly focusing back on me, assessing me with a creased brow as realization washes over her features.
“You’re Trista’s brother?”
“Yes. And you are?”
“Lauren Banks. She told me I could stay here for a while.”
I rake through my brain, hitting blank after blank, while she swipes her long delicate fingers through the fringe of her blunt bangs, a gesture I assume is a bit of a nervous one, but I find ridiculously cute. She waits patiently, avoiding my eyes, as I stare at her with bewilderment until her name vaguely clicks into place from a conversation I had with Trista when she flew in for Zoe’s wedding last month, before jumping on a plane to China to follow her best-friend-slash-love-of-her-life.
“You’re Tris’s friend from work. The one who’s always hungry.” I bite back a snort at her offended expression.
“Seriously?” she huffs. “That’s how Trista describes me?”
“My sister is very protective of her food.” I can’t hold back the laughter, which seems to offend Lauren even more. “She also may have mentioned you were living here, but I hadn’t realized it was an ongoing arrangement.”
One hand clutches the pillow against my erection, so it won’t accidentally drop and reveal my still raging boner, while the other rakes fingers through my hair to scratch the back of my neck until I eventually give up on making my brain function long enough to think of an appropriate solution at this ungodly hour.
“I’m sorry for... uh…scaringyou?” I wrinkle my nose, not able to come up with a better way to word what just happened. Lauren smiles ruefully, almost like she wants to laugh but isn’t sure she should, which I guess is the requisite response to this bizarre situation. “I’ll go downstairs, throw some clothes on, and sleep on the pullout in the study. I’ll have my assistant arrange for a hotel room first thing in the morning.”
“No, don’t. This is your place; I’ll get a hotel,” Lauren hurries to protest, her hand automatically going to those bright strands hanging on her forehead, and I stop myself short of pointing out that I never said I’d be the one moving out, just that I’d be the one paying for it.
“Let’s just work it out in the morning, okay?” I suggest because, as much as I agree that she should be the one to leave, I’m not a heartless bastard to lay it on her in the middle of the night after unwittingly spooning her in my birthday suit. She nods, pulling the sheet over her breasts, and I realize I’m staring.In for the win tonight, huh, Edwards?“Uh, right, so, could you turn around or something?”
Lauren tilts her head to the side and glares at me with amusement, a small smile playing on her thin pink lips as if to ask, “don’t I get to stare a bit, too?”before turning off the light and throwing herself onto the pillow. Her back is to me and soft laughter floats to my ears, most likely a reaction to the heat I felt climbing up my neck. I can’t remember the last time anyone made me blush, let alone a pretty girl.
I turn, sliding the pillow to my backside just in case Lauren decides to peek, before rushing downstairs. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I shoot Trista an angry text, not caring what time it is in China right now. The only reply I receive is an order not to sleep with Lauren, in all caps with way too many exclamation points.
“Screw you. You’re not the boss of me,” I mutter, but reply with a “Fine.”
My cock twitches angrily at the sentiment, and I mentally promise it to find a hot hookup tomorrow once this debacle is settled. Another twitch signals further disapproval.
I’ll beat one out thinking about her perfect tits. Better?
The further hardening of my already painfully strained shaft indicates that idea sits better with my libido, and I sigh, daring another glance up to the gallery before turning back to the study with an annoyed shake of my head. Who I’m annoyed at—Lauren, Trista, or myself—I’m not sure.
At Trista. Definitely at Trista.
I shut the door behind me and defiantly throw the duffle on the study floor, pulling some clothes on before I slowly start making the pullout bed, hoping it will distract me from Lauren long enough so I can just crash without the bother of having to masturbate. It works until I lay down on the pillow I took from the bed, and the soft scent of jasmine hits my nostrils full force, scrambling my brain and springing my cock back to life.
“Fuck my life,” I breathe out with a weary sigh, resigning to my fate as I start mentally undressing the unsuspecting girl upstairs, which I met less than ten minutes ago.
Yeah, she definitely has to go.
* * *
Lauren
“Good morning.” I can’t stop the laughter from bubbling up when Michael stumbles out of the study with a grunt, his coppery-red hair sticking out in all directions and eyes still hazy from sleep. “I see you take to waking up as well as Trista does.”
His hands rub over his handsome, freckled face, which I didn’t get a good look at in the dim light last night. His features are squared, but in a soft way, not jagged and sharp, and I imagine those full lips would probably deliver the best kiss of my life.
Whoa, where did that come from?
“No one is as bad as Trista in the morning.” He yawns and stretches, the blue t-shirt with the Carrot Top Records logo, a vintage vinyl player with a carrot-shaped needle hand, stretching over his chest, revealing the top of that mouthwatering V that I got a glimpse of last night. I also managed to get a good view of what it leads to, currently tucked away neatly in a pair of red running shorts.
“She texted me last night after you went downstairs,” I inform him as I ogle. “Told me to feel free to hit you if the occasion calls.”
Michael makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a grunt, and the tattoos covering his left arm flex and pop with his pronounced muscles. When he catches me staring, he grins and winks, and despite the heat climbing up to my cheeks at the vivid memory of those almond-shaped eyes stripping me, I can’t tear my gaze away from his lean, muscular body flexing in front of me.