hungry?”
“I don’t know. I’m just so tired.” She was looking out the window, and they were silent until he pulled into his driveway ten minutes later. “Where are we?” She looked over to him.
“My home.”
Her brow flinched for a moment, but she followed him up the steps to his front door. As they entered, she looked around and he moved to the kitchen counter, grabbing the partial bottle of wine he’d started and then abandoned the night before. He offered her a glass, and she accepted before he led her to the sofa in his living room. It was nearly midnight, and it was snowing outside again. He finally felt at peace, and he knew it was because he could stop worrying about her now. Eli was an incessant worrier—about his business, about his designs, about his money. But he wasn’t one to get close enough to others to worry about them, and it felt odd. It shouldn’t. It should be normal, and he knew that, but it wasn’t for him.
“Eli…” She didn’t seem very sure of what she wanted to say to him, but he kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to figure it out. “Thanks…and sorry.” His eyebrows shot up before he could temper his reaction to her words, and she needed no other encouragement. “I can’t be making your already difficult decision to hire me any easier for you, but I do appreciate it.” Her lips pursed as she waited for his response.
He made her terribly nervous; he could see it on her face, and he wasn’t surprised. He had that effect on people, but she was also surprisingly good at holding her own with him in her own way.
“I’m learning to deal with it.” He smirked. His half-smile was the most he could offer to calm her nerves. “You know, I’m not as big of a jerk as I sometimes seem.” He was actually, but he didn’t really want her thinking so.
She studied him for a moment, and he could see her deciding whether she wanted to respond to that. He wanted her to, and she rose to the occasion even in her tired and weary state. “I don’t think you’re a jerk.”
“Yes, you do.”
She was silent then as she sipped the wine. He offered her some crackers, and she snacked as she drank, and soon her eyes looked heavy again, and he started to wonder if perhaps she might fall asleep with her glass in her hand. He led her back to one of the spare bedrooms in his sprawling house and left her there. When he checked on her half an hour later, she was sound asleep with the bedside lamp on. He watched her for a moment before going to bed.
He’d had plenty of sex dreams in his life, but that night he was quite certain his dream was one long and tormenting erotic journey. He woke himself moaning her name. His cock was hard, his mind was flashing images of her naked body, and he was desperate for a release he wasn’t going to be indulging in. Seeing her naked was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it was taunting to see something he wanted to have but was going to be denying. But, on the other hand, who the hell could regret seeing something like that? He ended up walking around his house aimlessly when he couldn’t sleep, peeking in on her, and then walking around some more. She was wearing only a tank top and underwear. The cargo pants and shirt she’d had on were lying in a chair that sat next to the dresser.
He had no business touching her belongings, but he did anyway. He pulled her clothes out of the bag as she slept. He found a wallet and held it in his hands for a minute before putting it back unopened. He wanted to open it so much it was almost impossible to set it down, but at the last moment, he shook his head and returned it to her bag. Perhaps he could solve his mystery by opening it up, but then again, maybe he wouldn’t like what he found. As he glanced at her, he was hit with a pang of guilt. Why? Her clothes were dirty, and he was going to wash them. It should be reason enough, but he knew it wouldn’t be for her. Little else was in her bag—a few
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