tug to lure me out of his room and down to mine. He points at my bed.
I look up at him, see his serious expression, and then scurry over to make my bed. I can feel him watching me. It’s unnerving. I wonder if he’ll criticize how I make my bed. Is he strict about that too?
He says nothing though, and when I’m done, I find him leaning in the doorway. “Good girl.”
I feel a ridiculous sense of pride as I return to his side. All I did was make my damn bed, for heaven’s sake. Granted, I’ve never done that before in my life I don’t think, and it’s silly to do so at the instruction of a man I’m staying with…
But he’s smiling at me like I’ve pleased him greatly.
And I like how he looks at me.
I like how he touches me too.
His hand lands on the top of my head and runs down over my hair. He lifts a section of it. “That foster mom you had when you were six was a lunatic and a child molester, but perhaps I should thank her. Your hair is truly gorgeous. Without her abuse, maybe you never would have grown it out like this.”
I start to thank him and then snap my mouth shut.
He chuckles, wraps an arm around my shoulders, and leads me into the living room. When we reach the sofa, he releases me. “Did your boss try to call or text you when you didn’t show up for work?”
I nod. “Yes. There are several messages on my phone. I didn’t read them. The thought of listening to his voice or seeing his words makes me cringe.”
“Do you mind if I look, sweetie?”
I nod and drop down onto the sofa, scrambling to tuck my skirt under me when I remember I’m not wearing jeans as my bare thighs hit the cool leather. “Go ahead.”
He touches my face first, looking me in the eye before he heads toward the kitchen counter where he plugged my phone in.
I love how often he touches me. Does he have any idea how he affects me or how I’m falling for him? He said he’s into me. Did he mean it? I’m not his type. I’m young and poor and uneducated. I’ve been scraping by as a stripper. Surely, he’s just being nice or he’d realize how absurd it would be to date me.
My chest tightens as I consider the fact that our entire foundation will happen alone in his home. Maybe if the situation were different and he took me outside of the house, he would be embarrassed. I would look ridiculous next to him. He’s more than twice my size. Built. He’s been in the military and has a grownup job. He’s established.
I’m no one. Just a pretty face. I haven’t lived life like he has. Not that I’m embarrassed about my job choice. It paid the bills. It was legitimate work. I did what I had to do to survive. I’ve never been on the streets. I’ve never been hungry and unable to afford at least something to eat. I consider myself resourceful and lucky in some respects.
I ease into the corner of the couch and pull my knees up, carefully covering them with my dress before setting my chin on them and rocking forward. My gaze is on a random spot across the room as I remind myself how fucked I am. Maybe I wasn’t destitute before now, but I’m in a heap of trouble. I’ve lost one job for sure and probably both. Cindy can only hold my spot for so long before she has to replace me.
What’s going to happen to my apartment if I don’t pay the rent? I don’t own much, but I bought everything in there over months with every dollar I earned. It would take me a long time to replace my belongings if I’m not able to retrieve them. What would I do with my stuff anyway? It’s not like I could afford a storage unit. I can’t even leave the house to pack it up.
I’m so fucked.
“Britney?”
I jerk my gaze to the side as Davis sits next to me. He sets a hand on my back. “You okay?”
I swallow. I’m not okay.
“What happened? You were smiling a moment ago. I turned around after reading your messages and found you staring into space looking like the bottom has fallen out of your world.” He smooths his hand up and down my