lashes fluttered against his skin. When she sighed, Troy felt a sense of home and peace he’d never known. He’d certainly never felt at home or at peace growing up with his parents. He’d been in Los Angeles as long as anywhere, and he called it home, but he could just as easily pick up and move next week if he wanted to. No place had ever given him the feeling of home. It had been an elusive dream he’d given up on long ago.
But here and now, with Julie in his arms and breathing steadily on his chest, something inside him recognized the difference. This was something he could see himself doing for years. Many, many years.
The bucket of ice water got tossed when Troy’s watch alarm went off at six a.m. He shut it down after the first bell. Julie hadn’t moved a muscle. He could skip the gym and sink into her again. But that would make leaving that much harder. He needed to get the hell out of her bed and stay out. At least until he no longer worked for Sophia.
Julie’s bare thigh was draped over his, her arm wrapped around his chest. He studied the woman who fascinated America. She had one of those faces that could morph into anything. She could be the Hollywood beauty or the sitcom clown. When she smiled, her eyes and face lit up with an inner beauty that could knock out a heavyweight boxer. But when she widened her eyes, pursed her lips or scrunched her eyebrows together, she just as easily turned into the comedienne. Her versatility had made her golden.
And here she was lying in his arms. Beneath the person she showed the world, Julie had the qualities he respected. She was honest, real and nothing like the spoiled actresses he’d come across.
Troy’s dick decided that too much distance separated it from Julie, but Troy slid out of the sheets before he let his other brain decide anything. He dressed quietly and quickly with one thing on his mind.
Distance. He needed distance to regain his footing.
* * *
Julie felt a tickling at her cheek. She registered the ache of sore muscles. Muscles she hadn’t used in a long, long time. She stretched her legs, her heavy lids fluttered open and she stared into Troy’s sweet, serious eyes as he crouched, fully dressed, next to the bed.
“Hey,” he whispered huskily, easing some hair behind her ear. “I have to get to work. I didn’t want you to wake up alone and think...”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Think what?” she murmured. She cleared her rusty throat.
“Think...think I’d deserted you,” he finally said.
She stretched again and her muscles protested. “Mmm.” She hadn’t thought about this moment last night, but now she had no idea what to say. She didn’t expect a commitment from the guy, but did he realize what last night had meant to her? She flushed just remembering that sixty-nine. “You want me to make some coffee before you go?”
He shook his head. His fingers continued to ease through her hair and threatened to put her back to sleep before he even left. “Not necessary.” His lips met hers in a soft kiss and Julie’s pulse increased. Toothpaste fresh. Delicious. He pulled away.
“You’re one brave hombre,” she said.
His smile decimated her. He rarely grinned, but now, with all those straight white teeth flashing at her, she grinned back. “Why’s that?” he asked.
“‘Cause, you kissed me with my morning breath. Yuck.” She scrunched her face into a sour pucker and he chuckled.
“You could eat a clove of garlic and I’d still love kissing you.” He meant it to be funny, but the words intoned something more. Did he mean that the way it sounded or was he just being nice?
Best to keep things light. “Sure, you say that now. Just wait until I eat a clove of garlic and come knocking on your door.” She tried not to sound like a lonely sap who wanted company. His company specifically. The still love kissing you line was music to her ears, but what came next? She wanted to see him again. The idea that last night might’ve been a one-night thing depressed her senseless. What if she’d thoroughly misjudged him? Had she given herself to a man who wanted nothing more than one smokin’ hot night in her bed?
She needed a drink.
That was saying something since not only did she rarely ever drink, but it was still six-something in the