swinging open the door of the closet and chucking it in, then slamming it back closed.
She’s too late though. It’s already burned into my brain.
I’ve tried to not spend a lot of time wondering what Maya’s wearing underneath the clothes I so fucking desperately want to peel off her, but I wasn’t expecting the sexy, pink, lace-covered bra.
I’ve been staring at this shelf for the last ten minutes because I can’t stop thinking about if the panties match.
Fuck do I hope they match.
I push the thought aside because I shouldn’t be having it at all.
But I can’t seem to stop myself.
We’ve fallen into a sort of rhythm over the last week. We’re no longer ignoring one another, but we’re not suddenly best friends either. It also hasn’t escaped me that Maya has done everything in her power to ensure we’re never alone in the same room together.
We’re just…co-existing.
Which is fine. It’s what I wanted. No skin off my back.
“Can I ask why you’re screaming my name across the apartment? I don’t usually make women yell unless it’s in the bedroom…” I slide my eyes toward her bed, smirking. “Oh. Look. A bed.”
She huffs, but I don’t miss the way her eyes find the bed too. She snaps them back to me just as fast. “Tell me it wasn’t you.”
“It wasn’t me.”
She clenches her teeth. “Nolan…”
“What?”
“My tire—did you fix it?”
“Oh. That. Yeah, I did.”
“Why?”
She’s a friend, right? Friends can help friends.
Or at least that’s what I told myself when I showed up to the parking garage with a shiny new tire and a jack.
I shrug, grabbing another book from the shelf, flipping it over to read the back. A lot of my shelves are lined with books I haven’t yet read. “You needed a tire, and I had some time.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “I thought we talked about you doing stuff like that. I’m not your—”
“Charity case. Yeah, I heard you.” I settle on two new books, then tuck them into my hand, pushing myself up to my full height. “But you’re my tenant. If you don’t work, I don’t get paid. I was doing it for me, not you.”
We both know that’s bullshit since her shop isn’t far from here and she walks most days anyway. I pray she doesn’t call me out on it.
She’s frustrated, but I can tell she doesn’t want to argue.
Thank fuck for that. I’m not in the mood either. All I want to do is relax and read for a bit, maybe finish the true crime documentary I started.
“Well, thank you,” she murmurs. “I suppose.”
“You’re welcome…I suppose.”
Her lips twitch. “What are you doing home right now anyway? I saw your truck in the garage when I was on my way up and wondered.”
“Rain delay. It’s not looking like it’s going to let up anytime soon, so we’re off the rest of the day.”
“Ah.”
“What are you doing here?”
I rake my eyes over her outfit. She’s not dressed for work, and I know that because her work attire usually includes a pair of jeans that show off her curves in ways I can’t ignore. But today she’s—
Oh, fuck me.
No wonder her bra was hanging on the door—she’s not fucking wearing one.
Like she can feel my eyes, her nipples form stiff peaks, and I have to fight the urge to cross the room and see if the color of them matches those pink lips I know taste sweeter than sin.
My dick jumps to life behind the zipper of my jeans.
Look away, Nolan. Just fucking look away. She’s off limits.
“I’m off today,” she says, drawing my eyes away from her chest. “I walked down to The Gravy Train for coffee, then stopped at the grocery store for bread before it really started coming down. I was going to make some of the soup I spotted in the pantry and a grilled cheese for a late lunch. You interested?”
As if on cue, my stomach growls.
She laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I don’t say no to a home-cooked meal very often.”
She crinkles her nose up. “It’s not really home-cooked. I’m just cracking open a can.”
“Are you making it on the stove and not in the microwave?” She nods. “Then it’s home-cooked enough for me.” I head for the door. “You coming?”
“I’ll be out there in a sec. Gonna change. I’m wet.”
I raise my brow.
“From the rain,” she clarifies with wide eyes.
I chuckle, then head for my room, where I swap my jeans for sweats.