“Glass of water would be nice,” she said without opening her eyes.
He walked toward the kitchen but stumbled to a halt when he saw the dining room table. Food sat out on plates, and glasses of wine sparkled in the light of candles burning in the middle. A lead weight formed in his stomach. She’d been planning a night of romance, and what had he done?
Ravished her like a wild animal. She might say that she was fine with it, but this, right here, proved she wanted more. That she wanted the kissing, the slow dancing, the hand holding. The cuddling in the morning.
Panic squeezed his throat. He couldn’t give her that, and she needed it…deserved it all.
So he had to walk away.
And wasn’t that the ultimate irony? The one time in his fucking life he desperately wanted to stay, he was forced to leave.
For her sake.
He compelled himself into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and strode back to her. She didn’t stir.
“Julie?” he whispered.
She made a soft noise and turned her head, whispering his name. Desire burned red hot through him. His heart clutched in agony.
No. He couldn’t walk away. Not yet. He still wanted her…had to have her. Just once more. He had a whole damn list of different ways he wanted to take her. Pleasurable things he wanted to show her.
Maybe he couldn’t give her true intimacy, or forever, but he could take her body places it had never been. For right now.
After setting the water on the coffee table, he lifted her into his arms and walked down the hall. He stopped outside her room and hesitated. Frowning, he stared at her sweet face, then at the knob. Panic trickled through him. This was when he always left.
He had a serious, unbreakable, no-sleepover rule.
But the idea of leaving Julie on her bed and going to his own room…
Hell, no. So not happening.
Smothering a frustrated groan, he continued on to his room, tugged back the covers, and gently laid Julie under them. She’d slept here just over a week ago. He’d liked her in his bed then, and he liked it even more now. Loved the fact that he could reach over at any given moment and coax her awake with small, deliberate touches. And the thought of morning sex when she was still sleepy-eyed and disheveled from a full night’s rest? Oh, yeah. He wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she.
He stripped off his clothes, then crawled in beside her, propped up on his elbow, and just watched her sleep. He’d taken his best friend. Hard and fast and unrelenting. No undoing that now. All he could hope for was that one day she didn’t look back and regret it.
And he prayed to God he didn’t lose her completely when she realized what he already knew.
That although the sex was amazing, that’s all there would ever be.
Because that’s all he was capable of.
Chapter 12
This morning had been so goddamn awkward.
Pulling in controlled breaths, Tommy lowered his body toward the floor as he completed one last set of triceps dips off the side of a workout bench. Then he shoved up and off, and jogged to the next circuit.
After straddling the next bench, he gripped the hanging bar apparatus and pulled it to his chest.
Because of the late night, they’d gone to bed without setting the alarm. Julie’s frantic cursing had woken him up, and he’d realized she was already thirty minutes late for work. Whoops.
After a quick shower, she’d hastily dressed. That’s when it had gotten weird. Did he kiss her good-bye?
On the lips? Cheek?
She hadn’t seemed to know the answer, either. Finally, she’d just given him a wave and a high-pitched, “See ya later,” and was out the door.
He jogged over to the rowing machine. How was he supposed to treat her now? She wasn’t his girlfriend, but they were sleeping together while living under the same roof. Man, he sure as hell hadn’t thought of that problem, had he? Talk about awkward.
Affection made him very uncomfortable. Which was odd, considering he’d never hesitated to wrap an arm around Julie or kiss her hair or cheek before. But this was a different type of affection— relationship affection. And that he was so not comfortable with.
God, he couldn’t keep thinking about this. It had driven him crazy all damn morning. How hard would it be to hold her hand? Give her a little more than just a rough tumble?
Finishing up the rowing, he jogged over to the weights, putting his focus back on his training as he did his squat reps.
Training had been going phenomenally and had given him some hope that maybe, sometime in the future, he’d get a chance to prove himself—where it really mattered.
In the cage.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he glanced up to see Mike. “Let’s talk.”
Tommy set the bar back on the stand, then twisted to face his coach as he wiped sweat off his face with a towel. “What’s up?”