“Wow. That’s a really long time.”
He turned his body toward mine while he kept my feet firmly in his lap and his hands kept massaging all of the most perfect spots. I had to fight the urge to moan when he started using his thumbs on my heels.
“What about you? Have you ever lived with a guy before?” he asked, turning the tables on me.
“No.”
“When was your last relationship?”
“Um…a while ago.” Or never.
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “A while? Like a few months or a few years?”
“What constitutes a relationship, exactly?”
Thatch laughed. “I’d say it would be the last time you considered someone your boyfriend.”
“Then I guess I’d have to say a while, meaning never.”
His brow scrunched into a firm line. “You’ve never had a boyfriend?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “I’ve dated, but never long enough to hit the boyfriend-girlfriend milestone.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Not really.” I shrugged. “I’ve just never found anyone who kept my interest longer than three or four dates. I’m aware that makes me sound like I’m scared of commitment, but in reality, I just don’t like wasting time. And not just my time—anyone’s time. If I’m not feeling it or shit feels forced, then it’s better to end it than let something continue when I know it’s not going to work out in the end.”
Thatch nodded in agreement. “I respect that.”
“Really?” I asked and squinted a little in surprise. Not that I had ever made a point to care what other people thought about my life choices, but Thatch’s neutral reaction was the opposite of pretty much everyone. Hell, even my mother—who for most of her life had encouraged me to do what made me happy—had recently started bombarding me with questions about whether or not I’d ever settle down. Although, I had a feeling that concern was more focused on the second female biological clock, the one people forgot to mention, than anything else: Grandchildren.
“Yes, Cass.” He tapped my foot and offered a small smile. “I definitely respect the fact that you’re open and honest and don’t beat around the fucking bush when it comes to relationships. I wish more women had that mind-set. Most would probably find that waiting on the right man is better than settling with some dipshit who doesn’t deserve them. And it’s more respectful to the other party than pretending to be all in when you’re not.”
For some reason, the softness in his coffee-colored eyes had me giving him more insight into my life and lack of relationship history. “In college, I never had a boyfriend because I didn’t want a boyfriend. I was one of those rare girls who enjoyed being single and just doing my own thing. And once I graduated and started my career, I was traveling all the time in the beginning. Four months would go by, and I’d maybe be in New York for a week or two, tops. That lifestyle never really made a relationship possible.”
“Do you still travel that much?”
“Fuck no. But that’s only because all of that traveling paid off. I paved my own path and created a good reputation for myself.”
“A reputation that generally revolves around taking pics of half-naked men?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“What can I say? I have an eye for good-looking men, muscles, and sometimes, a nice, thick bulge in a pair of Calvin Klein’s,” I declared with a wink.
I expected him to retort with something about his thick bulge, but he merely laughed and continued to massage my feet, working those big hands up to my calves.
Hmmm…maybe Thatcher Kelly could be serious every once in a while?
I glanced at the clock on the cable box and saw it was nearly ten o’clock. “Well, roomie, I better hit the hay. I have to be out the door before dawn for a shoot in the Hamptons.”
He removed my feet from his lap and stood, holding out a hand to help pull me off the couch.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I got to my feet in front of him. My eyes scrutinized his, waiting for him to raise the white flag and tell me to go home—which would mean the ultimate prankster would officially be dethroned from his royal throne of pranking and I would walk away victorious.
Say it! Say it! Say it! I chanted in my head.
“I’m going to bed too.”
Huh?
“We’re both going to bed? Right now? In your bed?”
“I think you can start calling it our bed now, baby,” he said with a wink as he walked toward the hall.
I followed his lead into his bedroom, until we were both standing in front of the his and hers sinks in his master bathroom. Thatch seemed to be completely at ease, brushing his teeth, peeing—in front of me—and then, washing his hands. A few minutes later, he was cozied up in bed while I remained in the bathroom, just staring at my toothbrush, which he had kindly set in my hand.
“If you forgot toothpaste, feel free to borrow mine,” he called from the bed.