I flick through the stations as doors bang and guys shuffle in the hall. I guess they’d all slept in on this rainy Sunday. With my body still tingling from the way Christian had touched me, I sink further into his cushiony mattress. What the hell is his bed made out of? I’d never get up if I had this kind of luxury.
A yawn pulls at me as I aimlessly go through the channels. I don’t normally watch TV and especially not on a Sunday. Sundays are for running hard and studying even harder. I turn my gaze and it lands on my backpack as a yawn pulls at me. My God, why am I so tired? Probably because I’ve not been exercising, and last night, I had a hard time falling asleep, even after touching myself while I thought about Mr. Quarterback. Star player, and star of my dreams.
You are so screwed, girl.
I’m not and that could be the problem. Maybe if I did sleep with Christian, I’d get over this crazy infatuation. Sex is sex and what I experienced with Ryan is probably what it’s like with all guys. I think girls just make stuff up, to make themselves and the jocks look good. I’d probably be disappointed if he touched me in a sexual way, although every single innocent caress feels erotic when it comes from him.
I shut my eyes as the rain once again picks up outside, the drone against the window pulling me under—that and the monotone delivery on the news station I settled for. The cozy mattress shapes my body and I reach down and pull up a blanket from the end of the bed. My heart slows and I swear I’ve never been so warm or comfortable in my life.
The next thing I know, my eyes are opening, and I glance around. Where the hell am I? I blink, trying to orient myself, and go up on my elbows as my vision clears. “What’s going on?” I ask when I find Christian sitting in a big comfy recliner, tapping away on his laptop. As soon as I speak, he shuts it and jumps to his feet.
“Hey,” he whispers, and the soft sound goes through me, awakens a deep need inside me and in that instant, I want Christian to touch me, I want to feel his hands and mouth on my body. I want…him. “How did you sleep?”
I give a slow shake of my head, and note the stack of blankets on me. Did Christian tuck me in? “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was so tired.”
“It’s okay, I was just working on my assignment.”
He sits next to me, and as the bed dips, I slightly roll toward him. I try to remove my foot from the stack of pillows so I can sit up, but he puts his hand on my stomach, fingers splayed, and holds me down.
Dear God, I wish I didn’t like that so much.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I blink. “Home.”
His grin does incredibly strange things to me. “You’re staying here now, remember?”
My brain fills in all the missing pieces as it wakes. “Oh, right.”
“And we didn’t ice your ankle. I didn’t want to do it while you were asleep. You looked adorable, and the snoring…” He holds up his phone. “It’s blackmail.”
He recorded me snoring! “Christian—”
“Kidding. Kidding. Relax, Maize.” He sets the phone on his nightstand, and holds his hands up in surrender. “It’s all good. I would never do that to you.”
I give him a look that suggests he’s done worse, and instead of commenting, he glances at the clock and frowns.
“Am I keeping you from something?”
He gives a slow nod. “Yeah, sort of.”
“I can leave.”
His nod turns to a fast shake. “No, I want you to stay put. Consider my room your room now. I just have to run out, but before I do, I want to ice your ankle. Give me a second.” Before I can say anything, he rushes from the room, tightly closing the door behind him and the sound of his boots pounding on the wooden stairs reverberate through me. I sit in silence, noting the house is quiet now. I guess the guys are up and gone, or in their rooms studying…or doing something maybe a little more pleasurable.
I touch the bedding. God, how many women have been in this bed and spread their legs for Christian? He might have bought and paid for me, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be with other girls, even if I’m not putting out.
Oh, but how I want to.
I quickly shut that thought down as he comes back into the room, a cloth covered plastic bag filled with ice in his hands. His smile is soft and warm as he sits at the foot of the bed, puts my leg on his lap, and removes the sock.
He puts the cloth on my ankle. “This okay?” he asks, those piercing blue eyes gazing at me with a hint of worry.
“Fine.”
He lightly runs his fingers over my scar. “Does it hurt a lot?”
Oh, something is hurting. A lot. Right now, however, it’s not my damn ankle.
“It’s getting better.”
“Warrior wounds,” he says. “Something to tell the grandkids about.”
I laugh. “No kids or grandkids in my future.”
He nods, like he understands. “Ditto. But why don’t you want kids?”
I look at him like he might be insane. “This world is too cruel to bring kids into it.” But as I look at him, take in the frown on his face, I realize I might sound bitter. I’m not, it’s just that I know firsthand how unaccepting people are if you’re different.
“Maybe one day you’ll fall in love, get married, and see things differently.”
“Maybe. What about you, though?”
He moves the ice to another spot on my ankle and I wince a little. He glances up to check in on me, and I really appreciate the gesture. I nod to let him know I’m good. He falls silent for a long time and I don’t think he’s going to answer me when he finally breaks the quiet.
“I don’t know, Maize. I guess I’m influenced by my past.”
I stare at him, completely dumfounded. “What happened in your past?”
“When I said we had more in common than you think, I wasn’t kidding.” He glances down and shakes his head. “Never mind. Let’s talk about something else. What do you do in your spare time?” He chuckles. “What am I saying? You don’t have spare time. I barely have any. But now you have spare time.” Sadness invades his eyes as he moves the ice along my ankle, and for the first time, I wish he didn’t feel so guilty. “Are you going to take up any hobbies?”
“I’ll just study harder.”
I take in his posture, the tenseness in his shoulders, and while I wasn’t interested in getting to know him better, I really can’t help but want to know what it was he was going to say—what’s so painful for him to tell me. I want to ask, I actually open my mouth to ask, but he cuts me off.
“Shit, I have to go.” He takes my hand in his, his big palm practically swallowing mine whole, and puts it over the bag of ice. “I’ll be gone for a couple of hours. Just dump this in the sink when you’re done.” He jerks his head toward a closed door.
“You have a sink in your closet?”
His bark of laughter trickles through me. “No, there’s a bathroom in there.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course, there is.”
“Feel free to use it.” He pushes to his feet, snatches up a backpack, and stands over me. “You’ll be okay?”
“I’m a big girl, Christian.” I tug the blankets tighter around me, feeling oddly exposed, and aroused, and dizzy, and aroused. Oh wait, did I say that already? His gaze moves down my body, sending sparks through me. “Been taking care of myself for a long time.”
“Now I’m going to take care of you.”
“While I always appreciate your honesty, nothing is going to change.”
He grins at me. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
I want to protest, but can’t quite give voice to the words in my head. Why? Because I want to be wrong, want someone—Christian—to just once take care of me for a minute, or maybe two. But hasn’t he been doing that? Putting me in his bed because my house is falling down around me, and just now, icing my ankle. He has, but maybe I’m thinking of other ways—sexual ways. He’s such a contradiction. One minute he looks at me like he wants to eat me alive, touching my skin like I’m a prize possession, and the next he’s saying this isn’t about sex.
I hate, hate, hate that I want it to be.
“Make yourself at home, and if you want to lock the door go ahead. I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he says and disappears through the door, closing it tightly behind him, without telling me where he’s going. I sit there for a minute, my brain racing, trying to figure out what’s going on, when my phone pings.
I slide off the bed, grab my backpack, and fish it out to find a text from Kaitlyn.
Call me when you get a chance. I want all the deets on his room, mainly his bed.
I can’t help but expel a somewhat nervous laugh as I hit the video contact for a face-to-face chat. She comes into view, her eyes wide, excited.
“Tell me everything. Actually, show me.”
I grin at her enthusiasm, and while I should be mad, I’m in this predicament because of her—and Christian—I can’t seem to muster up the anger.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I say casually. “I came here, fell asleep for a bit, and then iced my ankle.” I set the phone beside me, and tug on my sock. I reach for my boot, pull open the liner, and pump the balloon to the proper tension. Once it’s secure, I snatch my phone back up. “Christian isn’t even here.” I’d never hear the end of it if I told her Christian iced my ankle, or describe in detail what his touch did to my body.
“Did Hot Stuff nap with you?”
“Really, Kaitlyn, we’re going there?”
Her face goes serious. “Are you okay, Maize? You look…I don’t know…upset about something.” She puckers her lips, her eyes narrowing as she brings the phone closer to her face.
I frown at her. “Of course I’m upset. I can’t run anymore. Broken ankle, remember?”
She goes quiet, pensive, and I almost reverse the camera because I don’t like the way she’s studying me. “No, there’s something else. You and I both know running was a means to an end, and that’s been taken away, but with Christian, your tuition is covered, so what’s up?” She taps her chin, and continues to study me.
“I’m not used to such luxury,” I tell her. “This place is posh with a capital P. I don’t think I belong here.”
“I’ve been in Wolf House before, but I’ve never been upstairs. Never say you don’t belong. You belong in a castle, my friend.” I grin, loving how she always has my back.
“I’m not Cinderella, Christian is no Prince Charming, and this is no fairy tale.”
She shrugs me off. “Show me around his room.”
“No, I’m not snooping.”
She makes an irritated tsking sound. “How is it snooping if he brought you to his place and left you there to fend for yourself?”
“Fend for myself? I haven’t been taken to the forest and left to survive on my own.”
“Like Snow White?”
“You need to live in this reality, my friend.”
“Still, he left you in a house full of wolves. You’re prey, Maize.”
I laugh. “No worries, I’m tucked in his room. It’s not kill or be killed.”
“Do you mean eat or be eaten, like Little Red Riding Hood,” she says with a sassy smirk that makes me laugh out loud.
I cover my mouth, hoping no one burst in to see what the excitement is all about. “Do you have to make everything about sex?”
She angles her head. “Ooh, who says I was?” She points a finger at me. “I was simply making a point, you’re the one who put a sexual spin on it.”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe my brain is thinking about sex because I’m in Christian’s bedroom, and the scent from his blankets on my skin, turning me into a hormonal teenager lusting after the star of the football team. “Goodbye, Kaitlyn.”
“No, wait,” she says quickly. “I want to see around.” I glare at her, and she hurries on with, “Look at it like you’re on a familiarization quest of his space because you’re going to be staying there, nothing more.”
“Only for a week. I doubt he’ll get the landlord to do anything.”
“So that’s a yes?”
I hesitate and glance around. “Fine,” I say, and reverse the screen so she can see what I see.
I do a slow circle to show her the entirety of the room. “Big, huh?” I say, and instantly regret my word choice. I shake my head and brace myself for a sexual response.
“You make it too easy, girlfriend,” she laughs.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Maybe because I’m not always thinking about sex like you are.” Okay, that’s a lie, I’ve been thinking about sex ever since Christian brought me to this room last night, removed his robe and put his hand on my shoulder.
I walk along one wall, cataloging his dresser and closet, which are beside the door to the hall. The wall behind the bed has a shelf with numerous medals and trophies. Across from me is a great big window with the curtains drawn for privacy and the fourth wall to my right has a door to the bathroom, a big comfy chair, a small two-seat table and a TV on the wall. It’s quite nice and comfy.
“Not much blackmail material here,” Kaitlyn says, and I laugh, hard, remembering how he teased me about my snoring. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“Yeah, I know. I think I’m nervous. This feels like snooping.” I glance over my shoulder. Maybe I should have locked the door.
“Open his nightstand.”
“No,” I say in a hushed voice. “That’s his private space.”
“Do it,” she insists. “You have to make sure you’re not sharing a room with a serial killer who keeps weapons or body parts in his nightstand.” I cock my head, and stare at her, incredulously. “What?”
“Are you for real?”
“Yeah, do it.”
I turn the screen back to me. “You’d say just about anything to get me to do it, wouldn’t you?”
She blinks dark lashes over not so innocent eyes. “I only have your best interests at heart, Maize, you know that.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m in Christian’s room right now.”
She stands and walks to her dresser. She casts a quick glance at me after grabbing her yoga pants. “Is it that bad?
“Yes!” I blurt out, a straight up lie, and reverse the camera so she can’t see my face. Wanting her attention off me, and how I kind of enjoy being here in luxury, I pull open the nightstand drawer, and come face to face with a mega box of condoms—for her pleasure.
“Dear God,” Kaitlyn says. “Does that say magnum size? Bring me closer.”
I stifle a laugh, and slam the drawer shut, then glance over my shoulder again when I hear footsteps in the hall. I hold my breath, but they move down the hall.
“He even has his own bathroom,” I whisper.
“Ooh, fancy. Take me in.”
I tiptoe across the room, being careful in my boot, and push open the door. I do a quick scan and revel in the big tub and separate shower. “A girl could get used to this.”
“I would do anything for a bubble bath in that tub.”
“Me too.”
“Go for it,” she tells me.
“I’m not getting in his tub.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Then again, he did say his place was my place.” I walk across the room and pick up a plastic bottle to examine the contents. “Grapefruit body wash.” I laugh. “No wonder he always smells like citrus.”
“You always did like grapefruit.”
I set the body wash back down, and take a big, rejuvenating breath, reminding myself who I am and who I’m not. One thing is for certain. I do not belong here, with Christian none the less, and I’d be wise to remember that.
“One week,” I say under my breath. “Then I’ll be back.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you something,” Kaitlyn says her face twisted.
“What?”
She looks a bit sheepish when she says, “Your room kind of flooded.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope, we had all that rain, and you know the shingles are bad. Water dripped all over your bed and floor. Looks like you won’t be coming back here for a while.”
Son of a bitch.