“Easy now.” He sprang from the bed, dashed to her side, and reached past her to steady the wobbling shelves. His arm brushed her shoulder.
She was a sucker for muscular forearms, and Eddie’s were superb. She bit the inside of her cheek. God help me.
He shuffled closer until his hard belly brushed her soft one. In bare feet, they stood eye to eye. His fingertips skimmed down her sides before he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his forehead to hers. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
His cock pulsed against her thigh, firm and getting harder, raising goose bumps on her skin.
“You cold?” He snatched up the bedspread and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Babka’s quilt,” he said, tucking it under her chin. “Warm you right up.”
“Babka?”
“Short for Babushka. Russian for grandma.” His fingertip traced a bird design that reminded her of the Chinese phoenix her own Maa Maa Chu embroidered on the pillowcases she gave Rosie. “For your trousseau,” she’d said with a hand-pat. Fat chance of that.
“It’s beautiful.” Rosie clutched the quilt, fighting the urge to wrap it around both of them like a horny burrito. How tempting to tumble back into bed, fully awake and aware. Just one more time before she put a gentle end to this delicious mistake. But that would just increase the chances of hurting Eddie. Better to rip off the Band-aid.
She cleared her throat. “Listen, I’d better go. I’ve got a family thing.” Total lie.
“Yeah, me too. Brunch with the fam.” His eyebrows flicked up, his lips parted, and for a moment she was sure he’d ask her to join him. But he only tilted his head and surveyed her as if searching for something—maybe the words to give her a polite brush-off.
Which was fine. Perfect, even. Never mind that sinking feeling in her stomach. If Eddie saw this as just a casual thing between friends, then she had nothing to worry about.
“Better get dressed.” Pretending confidence she didn’t feel, she handed him the quilt and set off in search of her clothes. It felt weird bumbling around his pristine apartment in her birthday suit, but the low whistle behind her proved he liked what he saw. Funny how many skinny guys went for big, curvy girls like her. Despite fashionista propaganda, she never found herself without male admirers for long. Still, those first naked moments could be awkward, especially since they’d also be their last naked moments.
Soft footsteps padded behind her, and a fingertip traced the spiral tattooed on her hip. “So much artwork on your skin. I could look at you all day, Rosie.”
She snatched up her sweater and held it to her chest like a shield. Eddie faced her, eyes hooded, his thick, ruddy cock pointing skyward. Her gut clenched like a fist as she forced the words out. “Look, Eddie. You’re sweet.”
His face crumpled in slow motion.
A sickly rush of regret forced the words out faster. “And hot. Any girl would be lucky to call you hers.”
His chest rose and fell on a shuddering breath. Damn it, couldn’t he make this easier on her?
“But I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Merciless, his dark gaze. His lips pressed into a thin line. “Why not?”
Okay then, honesty it is. “Because we work together. And if…when this falls apart, we’ll have to face each other every day.” She cleared her throat to chase away a wobble in her voice. “The Bangers crew is like family to me. I need work to be a place where I’m safe, you know? Where I can just be myself and do my job and not have anyone hammering at me to be something else, someone else.”
“I don’t want you to change, Rosie.” His palms stroked down her sides. “I just want you.”
“Yeah, now. But later when things go south?” She stepped out of his embrace. “That’s how it works, you know. At first, it’s all, ‘Baby, you’re perfect just as you are.’ Later, it’s ‘Why can’t you be more this? Do more that? Not be so damn…much?’ ” She raked her fingers into her hair—or tried to. Last night’s romp had left a huge snarl on the back of her head—and in her gut.
His hands dropped limply to his sides, then tightened into white-knuckled fists. “It’s because of my size, isn’t it?”
Woah, where did that come from? “Eddie, I—”
His brows drew together. “I’ve seen you at work, flirting with those guys.”
“What guys?”
“Huge, all of them. Guess I’m just not your type, huh?” His erection bobbing, he trudged past her and around the bookcase that served as a room divider.
Heart hammering, she stood rooted to the floor. Did she go for big guys? She’d never really noticed. At five-seven, she was taller than some guys, shorter than others, wider than most. So what? Life was hard enough without beating herself up over her size.
Apparently, she’d just triggered a flare-up of Eddie’s comparisonitis. Shit on a flaming stick. “Eddie, look.” She stepped around the bookcase and bonked right into him, his face red, his arms full of her discarded clothing.
He pushed the bundle into her arms. “Save it. Better this way. Let’s just chalk this up to a drunk mistake and go back to the way things were.” Turning away, he muttered, “Dawn was right.”
She dropped the clothing and planted her fists on her hips. “Wait, she talked to you too?”
Arms crossed, he nodded. “Shoulda listened. Now, would you please put your damn clothes on? Hard to talk sensibly when you’re all…” His gaze raked her from head to toe, then he groaned and turned his back.
“Fine.” She yanked her tights up one leg, then nearly toppled over when she lifted the other foot. “You didn’t mind looking last night.”
“Goddammit, I always like looking at you, Rosie.” He huffed. “Should’ve kept that to myself.”
So much for sparing his feelings. She was no damn good at this emotional tippy-toe stuff. She zipped up her short skirt, wiggled into her sweater, and stuffed her panties and bra into
