She shrugged. “I mean, it was really good and all, but what do you want me to do, Grant? Move in or something?”
He was actually thinking of something like that. “If you wanted.”
Brenna blanched, looking ill at the thought. “I’ll pass.”
“You’ll . . . pass?”
“Yep, I’ll pass.” She patted his chest. “You’re nice and all, Grant, but I’m not interested in something permanent. I thought we were just having fun.”
He stared at her. “Fun,” he repeated in a flat voice.
“Yes, fun. With a side benefit of being really, really convincing.” She grinned and headed to the front door. “I’m going to grab some pants and then head in for work. Shower’s all yours.”
And she waved at him and slipped out the front door.
He stood in his kitchen, staring at the door and trying to register what had just happened. She’d turned him down. Flinched away from his casual affection. All she’d wanted was a nice bit of fun last night? Seriously? That was all it was to her?
Last night had been amazing. He’d never had such incredibly intense sex with anyone, not even his wife. And she’d seemed to be as in to him as he was to her. What the hell had changed? His eyes narrowed at the door, as if imagining her still standing there.
He felt . . . used. Which was stupid, but there it was.
• • •
Well now, that had been uncomfortable. Brenna trotted down the steps, heading across the grass to her own cabin a short distance away.
Stupid Grant. Why couldn’t he just enjoy a night of sex and not think anything about it? Why’d he have to start attaching feelings and commitment to things like that? When had sex ever meant you must move in tomorrow? What the f**k? It made her angry—angry that she couldn’t just enjoy him without him trying to turn it into something more.
Sex didn’t have to mean a relationship. It didn’t have to mean moving in together and for better or for worse. In her eyes, those sorts of things only brought more pain. Permanence was a cosmic joke. Nothing ever lasted, not really. You enjoyed what you had for the day and forgot about it the next. That was the best way to live life. Anything else and you were just setting yourself up for failure.
She slipped into her own stripped-down cabin, eyeing the bare walls and spartan furnishings with relief. No artsy clutter here. One lamp, one table, one chair, one twin-size bed. The necessities. In her kitchen, she had one plate, one set of utensils, and one glass. That was all she needed for a home. Just enough to get by. Grant’s cabin had been clean, but there had been enough artful decor—a rug, a statue, a wall hanging, a shelf of books—to make her anxious, the pit of her stomach clenching at the sight. Things like that could easily turn into mountains of useless junk.
And she just couldn’t live like that.
Brenna pulled out a pair of jeans from her small pile of clean laundry and slid them on, adding a pair of ballet flats and then pulling her hair back into a messy topknot with a rubber band. She was presentable now and feeling more like herself after seeing her own refreshingly spare cabin.
They still had to work together. Sex wouldn’t change that. But she could act like nothing had changed between them, of course. Nothing really had, except that now she knew that he was fun in bed and had a nice, hard stomach that sucked in when she kissed it, and hair that was perfect for knotting her fingers in, and a tongue that knew just how to work her piercing . . .
She sighed. Why did he have to be so stupid about sex?
• • •
Elise rolled over on the leather couch and nuzzled deeper into her pillow, her eyes closed. She was in that lovely period of awake-but-not-ready-to-get-up-just-yet and no one had come to retrieve her, so she might as well sleep a little longer. She tugged the blanket closer and snuggled into the pillow, ready to get back to her dream.
A shadow fell over her face and, after a moment, it registered in her sleepy mind and she opened her eyes.
And gasped, sitting upright and scooting backward in surprise, clutching the blanket to her.
A man—a stranger—loomed over the couch. He was tall, but not ridiculously so. Brawny. Big, muscular shoulders and corded arms bulging with strength. Barrel chest. It was the kind of build a bruiser would have, and it seemed at odds with his face, which was almost model pretty. Angular, with a square, perfect jaw and strong, firm nose, his eyes were vivid blue and surrounded by thick black lashes. His hair was cropped in a close trim against his skull.
And he was pierced and tattooed everywhere. She saw a piercing through his nose. He had spacer rings in his ears, and a ring on the left side of his lower lip. His arms were covered in sleeves of tattoos. He was dressed in black, too. All of it combined to make him look menacing and unapproachable, if it weren’t for those inhumanly beautiful eyes. He was gorgeous and utterly wicked-looking, and yet so appealing to her.
He was staring down at her, too, as if fascinated. Really staring, as if he saw her.
And she wanted to touch her cheek and turn her face away, ashamed. What if he saw . . . it? Her fingers twitched with the need to pull her long hair in front of her face and hide as much of her as she could, but she couldn’t seem to move.
“Sorry,” he said in a low, gruff voice. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was looking for the person who placed this ad.” He raised the paper to show her. “I’m here to apply.”
Elise stared at the paper, her gaze moving back to him. Her mouth worked wordlessly, the only thing coming out of her throat a soft squeak of distress. “I . . .”
His mouth curved into a smile, and she was stunned by how gorgeous he was. Dark, tanned skin, those piercings, all those tattoos, and those heavenly eyes. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. And he was looking at her with interest, his gaze moving over her long, tangled hair and her face.
As if she were appealing and not gross-looking.
“I’m Rome,” he told her, his smile widening, and he extended his hand toward her to shake.
She just stared at him.
Those blue eyes studied her for a moment longer and then hardened. He pulled his hand back. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just here to apply for the job.”
Hurt her? Did he think she was scared? She should say something. Move. Something. Brenna would laugh about how ridiculous it all was, and then chatter at him in a friendly manner. Elise had only known her for a few hours, but she adored her already for being everything that Elise wasn’t. She wasn’t incredibly shy around men, wasn’t terrified of her own shadow. She wasn’t a hideous creature that everyone stared at or mocked. Elise swallowed and tried again. “I . . .”