She stares at me though sleepy eyes, then points toward the sink, and it’s all I can do not to cross the room and kiss her again. “I was thirsty. I was going to get a glass of water. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. You’re welcome to anything, Nina. You don’t have to ask permission. While you’re staying here, what’s mine is yours.” Including my bed and body, but I think it’s best to leave that unsaid.
“Thanks.” She strolls to the cupboard, and I watch her hips sway beneath the too-long T-shirt. My cock stands at attention as she reaches into the cupboard for a glass, and I set my bowl of cereal on the counter, my hunger shifting.
“I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, I was just restless.” She shrugs. “Strange place, different bed, you know.”
No one has ever slept in the room I put her in—the one directly beside mine. It’s one of the smaller rooms, but I wanted to give her the best view of the pool and, well, maybe I wanted her close. Which is all kinds of fucked up. I want her in my bed, yes—and that’s all kinds of fucked up, too—but I shouldn’t want her close. Sex and intimacy are two very different things, and I don’t do the second.
“Too cramped? Bed uncomfortable?”
“The opposite, actually. The room is bigger than my condo, and it’s the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in.”
“
My—”
She holds her hand up to stop me. “Let me guess, your decorator suggested you spare no expense and buy a top-quality mattress.” Her voice is full of teasing laughter as she smiles at me, and goddammit, her sweetness is like a sucker punch to the gut.
As air leave my lungs, I try to laugh with her and say, “Yeah.”
She leans against the counter and folds her arms across her chest. The innocent movement tugs the T-shirt higher on her legs. “Why did she insist on the best of everything?”
I scrub my hand through my hair, messing it up. “Cause someday my wife would like that? She said something about quality things attracting a quality girl.” I laugh. “Stupid.”
Nina cocks her head, a challenge in her gaze. “If it was so stupid, why did you agree?”
Good question. “No clue. Maybe because I didn’t care one way or another.”
“Or maybe in the back of your mind, that’s what you want. To settle down with a nice girl.”
A half laugh, half snort rumbles in my throat, and Nina stands still and stares at me like I’m an escaped mental patient. Jesus, she couldn’t be more wrong. “I’m an expert asshole, Nina. Assholes don’t attract nice girls. Besides, I’m not marriage material.” I know nothing about being a good man or father, considering the role model I had. Not to mention I wasn’t even enough to keep my mother around. She didn’t care enough about me to stay. Yeah, I have the funds and means to search her down now, but why would I bother. Why would I ever go after a woman who didn’t want me in her life?
Nope, wasn’t going down that path. Don’t feel. Don’t get hurt. A motto to live by.
“Me neither,” she says matter-of-factly.
What the hell? Why would she think that?
Taken aback by her nonchalant statement, I’m about to ask when she redirects with, “Did you have a say in any of the rooms, add any of your own personal touches?”
Right now, there’s something I’d like to give my own personal touch.
“Things from your childhood?”
“I’m not much of a decorator, and I don’t have a lot of stuff from my childhood.”
She angles her head and her eyes narrow, like she’s remembering something from our youth. “Why not?”
“I just don’t,” I say, not wanting to tell her the real reason. My father was a bastard, and I wasn’t allowed personal things. I don’t want her pity. I don’t want anyone’s pity.
“So you—” she begins, but I cut her off.
“There was one room I made mine.”
She puts her hand on her hip, her look somewhat disgusted. “Let me guess, your boudoir, or rather, dude-oir. Turned it into something that resembles the Playboy Mansion.”