Not wanting to ruin our mellow moods, but wanting to bring it up just the same, I start, “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Sounds serious.” He runs his hand along my neck, and smooths my hair from my face, his touch brings on goosebumps and I sink deeper into the water, his now flaccid cock against my back.
“You paid my medical bills, didn’t you?”
He stiffens for the briefest of seconds, but it’s enough for me to know I’m right. “What makes you think that?”
I sit up, turn in the tub and spread my sore leg out until it’s across his lap. He lightly strokes it, his hand a gentle sweep that seeps into my bones, and warms me in a way I’ve never been warmed before. My heart thumps as I look at him, take in the curves of his face, the warmth in his eyes. My God, not only is he the handsomest man on the planet, he’s the sweetest, too. I can’t be reading this guy wrong. I just can’t be.
“I’m going to pay you back,” I state adamantly.
“Okay,” he says.
That’s it? Okay? That’s all he has to say. He’s not even going to ask me how? Does he not believe me?
“Christian, I mean it.” I tug the hairs on one of his legs and he yelps and pulls back. I grin. “Don’t mess with me. I can be mean.” Not true. I really don’t have a mean bone in my body, though at times, I wish I did.
“Okay,” he says again. “I won’t mess with you, killer. You’re going to pay me back. I get it.”
“Like you, I stand behind my word.”
A warm, barely there smile touches the corner of his mouth. He likes that I have faith in him. It makes me wonder though, has no one ever trusted this guy, believed in him? Or is it just that he never lets anyone in. Is he really letting you in, though, Maize? You slept with him. That’s all. Why the hell then does it feel like so much more. Oh, maybe because I’m a ridiculous, emotional girl and there is a part of me that’s still back in that closet wanting to be liked by the boy who set out to ridicule me, and the mean girls waiting to laugh from the other side of the door. I thought I’d left her behind, but maybe she’s always going to be a part of me.
“I just don’t know how yet,” I say and reach for his body wash.
“I believe you’re a woman of your word too, Maize. I just didn’t want you worrying about it right now. You have graduate applications, keeping your grades up, and summer internships to keep you up at night.”
Feeling brave I say, “The only thing I want keeping me up at night is you.”
He grins. “I like the way you think.”
“And I like the way you feel.” I pour a generous amount of bodywash on my hands, soap it up and rub it over his chest.
He moans. “We don’t need to worry about anything right now, though. We just need to see about this mouth.”
He wraps his hand around my neck, and brings my mouth to his. He kisses me so tenderly, my eyes open to take in his features. I have to say, for two people who are just fucking, he sure kisses like it’s a whole lot more. Although really, what would I know what a whole lot more looked like? I’m so inexperienced. But this guy, for as long as I’m here, he’s going to fix that.
I press my forehead to his and give a small sigh. “Seriously, Christian, that was very sneaky and very considerate of you.”
“Shh, don’t tell anyone.”
I laugh. Hard to believe the guy who pulled his pants down and ruined my reputation in high school would turn out to be a nice guy. Sure, he sleeps around a lot, but so what? That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have kindness or integrity in him, and he only ‘bought’ me at the auction not to own me, control me, or finish what we started back in school—which we did and I’m so grateful—but because he’s a man who stands up to his responsibilities.
He lathers his hands, and scrubs me down. “Let me help you up and we’ll get rinsed off. He shifts, stands, and puts his hands under my arms to lift me to him. I touch his chest as he puts on the shower, and once we’re all rinsed, he climbs from the tub, rubs us both with a big fluffy towel, and carries me to his bed. He slides in beside me and pulls me to him.
The party continues downstairs, and with my head on his chest, his rumbling stomach sounds loud. “You need food.”
“Yeah, but I’m not going out there.”
“Can we order in? Maybe pizza.”
He laughs. “It wouldn’t make it up the stairs.”
“I think I might have a granola bar in my purse.”
He tugs me in tighter and flicks on the TV. “How about we just hang out, and once they all go to bed, which shouldn’t be too long, everyone is exhausted, we’ll go downstairs, and we’ll make something.”
“Okay,” I say. We’ve pretty much been eating cereal, sandwiches or takeout for the last couple of weeks, so something home-cooked would be nice. So much for me waiting on him and cooking and cleaning. He’s not made me do any of those things.
I snuggle into him, while he flicks through the stations and stops when he comes to an MMA fight. “Oh, hell no,” I say and snatch the remote from him.
He laughs. “Fine, what do you want to watch?”
“Not that.”
He groans. “Please don’t put on a chick flick.”
I come across an old college movie about a girl going home for Thanksgiving. “I love this one.”
“If you
