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Damn him.
“Don’t cry my name too loud,” he says, his smirk saying he knows everything I’m thinking. “Wouldn’t want to wake up our guests.”
Then he steps around me, goes into my bedroom, and shuts the door.
With my vibrator still in his pocket.
But as the air cools my wet fingers and I pad the few feet to Mariah’s room, I’m not focusing on my tingling nerve endings or my racing heart rate. I just keep hearing Henry’s words in my head—ourguests.
As if this is his house. As if this is all his responsibility too.
And dammit, it feels that way.
And I really like it.
He’s already made all this easier. Oh, not on my hormones. Or my heart. But now that I’ve seen April and Elliot in person, and witnessed Chris reacting to their situation, I realize that I’m glad Henry is here.
I close Mariah’s bedroom door and try to push the dresser in front of it.
It’s too heavy, of course, but I do push her futon in front of it at least. It won’t stop me, but it will at least slow me down if I decide to go climb in bed with Henry in the middle of the night.
Chapter 9
Henry
The house is still quiet when I step into the kitchen through the back door after my run the next morning.
Good. I’m glad they’re not awake yet. Last night was a lot and April and Elliot need the sleep.
I didn’t expect to see Ruby. She’s a night owl and a late sleeper.
She’d told me once that she and Scarlett made perfect co-parents because Scarlett was a morning person while Ruby didn’t mind doing midnight or even two a.m. feedings when Mariah was a baby. Her bar and strip club jobs had always worked great for them raising Scarlett’s daughter together.
I scrub a hand over my face as I head to the fridge for water. I should still be sleeping. But I’d had a fitful night in Ruby’s bed, surrounded by all of her stuff and her scent. Then I got up to go for a run despite sleeping like shit and jet lag. I will never get used to the time change between the States and Cara, but I know the sooner I resume a normal schedule, the better off I’ll be.
I take three long gulps of water.
I’ve had sleepless nights because of Ruby before. Some because we’d been up all night, naked in each other’s arms. Some because we were apart and I was missing her with an acheI couldn’t relieve no matter what I’d done. The ache hadn’t just been in my dick, but deep in my chest. Hell, in my bones.
But none of those nights had been as bad as last night.
She was right next door. I was in her bed. My heart—and yes, my dick—were wondering what the fuck we were doing apart.
Not falling further in love. Getting over each other. Moving on.
Right. We arenotsleeping together and falling further in love, on purpose.
It’s a good plan, everything considered.
I peruse the contents of Ruby’s fridge, grabbing milk, eggs, and bacon before nudging the door shut.
It’s just after seven and I need a shower, but I want to get the pancakes started before Elliot comes down. I don’t want him to think I forgot.
As I open packages, measure ingredients, and crack eggs I think about what I’m really doing here.
Twenty-four hours ago I was in Cara, preparing for a trip to the US with a prince and his new princess. I was looking at the layouts of the penthouse suites in expensive hotels, thinking about how many cars we’d need for each trip, exchanging messages with the security teams for the VIP guests who would be at each site to bring out the media and raise awareness.
Now I’m making pancakes for a little boy in small-town Ohio.