Page 36

By the time seven o’clock rolls around, I’m starving and too fucking tired to cook. I order Thai food from the place down the street—pad Thai, green curry, spring rolls, the works. Enough for four people because I’m not an asshole, even if she thinks I am.

When the delivery driver calls from the front gate, I take the walk down my driveway to meet him.

The evening air is cool against my skin, and I find myself thinking about Sage.

About the way she looked at me while taking off her clothes.

The sounds she made when I made her orgasm.

The way she tasted and writhed from my tongue. How she licked my come.

Fuck, that was so fucking hot.

My dick twitches in my pants at the memory, and I have to adjust myself as I walk. This is going to be a problem. A big problem. Living with her, seeing her every day, pretending to be her friend when all I want to do is pin her against every surface in my house and make her scream my name.

I point up at the darkening sky, talking to the only person who might understand. “You knew it. Didn’t you, you bastard? You knew she was going to turn me inside out.”

And for the first time in three years, I realize I’m smiling. Actually smiling, not the cold smirk I use to intimidate people or the fake grin I put on for cameras. This is real, and it makes me feel lighter somehow. Like maybe Archer’s looking out for me after all.

I grab the bags of food from the delivery guy and tip him generously before walking back up the driveway. The house feels different now with Sage in it—warmer, more alive. Less like a mausoleum of my failures.

She’s in her room when I get back, so I walk to her doorway and lean against the frame. She looks up from her phone when she senses my presence, and her breath catches slightly. I love that I have that effect on her, love the way her pupils dilate when she looks at me.

“Ready for dinner?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

She follows me into the kitchen, and I can feel her eyes on me as I unpack the containers. We take everything to the living room, settling onto the couch with enough space between us to be proper but close enough that I can smell her shampoo.

She grabs the remote and starts scrolling through Netflix, finally settling on something called Love Island. I watch in horror as people in bikinis start dramatically arguing about nothing.

This is Season 10 Episode 4, and I have no idea what’s going on.

“You watch this trash?” I ask, unable to hide my disbelief.

“You don’t? This is pure gold,” she says, her eyes lighting up with genuine enthusiasm.

I disagree completely but keep my mouth shut.

I’m supposed to be her friend, and friends don’t shit on each other’s terrible taste in tv shows.

I try to focus on my pad Thai instead of the screen, but I can’t help getting sucked in when the contestants start screaming at each other over some stupid drama.

When the episode ends and rolls into the next one, Sage turns to me with a satisfied grin. “See? Hilarious.”

I just shake my head and get up to clean the takeout boxes, saving the leftovers in containers that actually have matching lids. When I come back to the couch, I sit a little closer to her than before. Not close enough to be obvious, but close enough that our thighs almost touch.

We watch another episode, and somewhere during a particularly ridiculous argument about loyalty tests, Sage leans her head against my shoulder.

I stiffen at first—I’m not used to casual affection, don’t really know how to handle gentle touches that aren’t leading to sex.

But she stays there, warm and trusting against my side, and eventually I relax into it.

This is what friends do, right? Watch shitty TV and fall asleep together on the couch like it’s no big deal?

Her breathing gets deeper as the show continues, and when I look down, her eyes are closed. Her sleeping face does something to my chest, makes it tight in a way that has nothing to do with lust and everything to do with how my heart squeezes tightly in my chest.

“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath.

I glance at my phone to check the time.

Lexi: Hey, are you back in town x

I ignore her.

It’s getting late, and Sage’s neck is going to be killing her if she stays in this position. I turn off the TV and carefully shift her in my arms, lifting her up. She mumbles something incoherent but doesn’t wake up as I carry her through the house.

I should take her to the guestroom. That would be the right thing to do, the respectful thing. Instead, I find myself walking toward my bedroom, telling myself it’s just for tonight. That she’ll sleep better in my bed.

I lay her down gently and slip in beside her, staying on my side of the king-sized bed. She’s beautiful in the moonlight streaming through my windows, peaceful in a way I’ve never seen her.

“You put me in your bed?” she murmurs without opening her eyes.

I pull her closer to me, unable to resist. “Where you belong.”

She chuckles softly, settling into my pillow. “You’re funny.”

She closes her eyes, and we drift to sleep.

I wake up the next morning with Sage draped over me like a blanket. Her leg is thrown across my thighs, her head on my chest, one arm curled around my waist. And my dick is rock hard underneath her knee, pressing against her through my boxer briefs.

“Sage,” I mutter, trying to shift without waking her. My hip is aching from staying in one position all night. “Baby.”

She readjusts herself, somehow managing to get even closer, and I can’t help but chuckle. She’s such a snuggler, completely unconscious of personal space when she’s asleep.

Then her eyes flutter open, and she immediately pulls back when she realizes our position. “Hey, you asked for it by bringing me in here.”

“I’m not complaining,” I say, rolling over and putting my arms around her before she can escape. I pull her back against me and nuzzle into her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin.

“Hey,” I say, turning her to face me. Our faces are inches apart, and I can see the flecks of red in her brown eyes. “Kiss me.”

She stares into my eyes, and I can see her thinking, weighing her options.

“Only if you want to,” I whisper, giving her the choice again like that night in Milwaukee.

She leans in and kisses me, soft and sweet and perfect. The warmth spreads through me like wildfire, and I press my hips against her instinctively. She moans into my mouth, and the sound goes straight to my dick.

“Slater,” she whispers against my lips, and hearing my name like that is something out of a dream.

I kiss her deeper, pouring everything I can’t say into the contact. “Sage,” I groan. “If you want, I—”

“Just enjoy my kiss, Slater.”

I smile against her mouth. “More than you know.”

I roll on top of her, grinding myself against her through our clothes. The friction is incredible, and I groan with the effort of holding back. “Okay, let’s get up.”

I force myself to get out of bed before I do something stupid like beg her to let me inside her. She stays in bed, her eyes following my movement as I stretch. I catch her checking out my shirtless body, her gaze lingering on my chest and abs before drifting lower.

A smirk plays on my lips as I watch her stare. Her eyes glance between my legs, and I remember the first time she accidentally walked in on me jacking off. The memory of her wide eyes and flushed cheeks makes my dick twitch.

“I’ll be in the bathroom,” I say, needing some space before I lose control completely.

“Doing what?” she teases, and there’s something playful in her voice.

The question hangs between us, and I can’t help imagining what she’s implying. The image of jerking off while she watches, her eyes on me as I come undone, sends heat racing through my veins.

“I’m just kidding,” she says quickly, probably seeing something in my expression.

I don’t press the issue, just walk to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I take a piss, brush my teeth, and splash cold water on my face, trying to get my body under control.

When I come out, she’s gone, and I’m left standing in my empty bedroom with the scent of her still on my sheets.

I need to burn off some energy, so I change into running gear and head out for a few miles around the neighborhood. The morning air is crisp, and the rhythmic pounding of my feet on pavement helps clear my head. Sort of.

Every step reminds me of how she felt pressed against me this morning, soft and warm and perfect. How she kissed me like she meant it, like maybe she wants this as much as I do.

By the time I get back to the house, I’m drenched in sweat and my hip is only marginally complaining. I tear off my shirt as soon as I’m through the front door, leaving it on the floor as I head straight for my bathroom.

I leave the door open because it’s what I normally do—living alone for three years will do that to a man. The hot water feels incredible against my overheated skin, washing away the sweat and some of the tension I’ve been carrying.

When I’m done, I walk around my bedroom naked while I look for clothes, secretly hoping Sage might walk by and get an eyeful. But when I realize she’s probably holed up in her room being responsible and professional, I give up the fantasy and get dressed.

I walk to her bedroom door and knock.

“Come in,” she says.

I open the door to find her sitting cross-legged on the bed, surrounded by paperwork and her laptop. She’s got that focused look again, the one that reminds me she has a life and career beyond whatever this is between us.

“I’m going to make some lunch. Want some?”

“Sure,” she says without looking up from her documents.

I head to the kitchen and start assembling sandwiches—turkey, Swiss, avocado, the good mustard that costs more than it should.

“This isn’t how I pictured you,” Sage says, sliding onto one of the kitchen island stools.

“I don’t starve,” I tease, slicing the first sandwich diagonally.

“Obviously.” She glances down at the three sandwiches in front of me. “I’m assuming you’re eating two sandwiches.”

I slide the first completed sandwich across the granite counter to her. “You’ll understand in a sec. Take a bite.”

She eyes me suspiciously but picks up the sandwich and takes a generous bite. Her eyes widen slightly as she chews, and she nods approvingly. “Perfect amount of mustard.”

“I know.” I finish assembling my second sandwich and take a bite. “If you want a second one, I guess I can share.”

She smiles, taking another bite. “It’s so good. Thank you.”

We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and I find myself watching the way she savors each bite. There’s something satisfying about feeding her, about making sure she’s taken care of.

I finish my second sandwich and start putting everything away, wrapping the leftover turkey and storing it properly.

“Who’s your best friend?” she asks suddenly.

The question catches me off guard, and I feel my chest tighten. “He’s gone. Yours?”

Her eyes widen with shock and something that might be sympathy. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “Um. I have a best friend from high school, but we’re very different. She likes her matcha green teas and her spin classes, and I’m still going out to the bar for a drink.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Not according to her,” she says with a rueful smile. “What’s your family like?”

I lean down, bracing my elbows on the counter and staring at her. She’s really doing this—trying to get to know me like a normal person would. Like someone who gives a shit about the answers.

“What?” she asks, taking another bite.

“You’re trying to get to know me?” I blink.

She scoffs, but there’s warmth in it. “Maybe.”

“They’re not worth knowing, honestly. Old money. High on drugs. Story as old as time.” The words come out more bitter than I intended, but they’re true. My parents are ghosts floating through their separate mansions, more interested in their pharmaceutical dependencies than their surviving son.

“So, you’re all alone in this world?” she asks, and there’s something gentle in her voice that makes my chest ache.

I look at her directly. “I’m not alone anymore.”

I watch as her breath stutters, see something flash in her eyes before she takes another bite to cover her reaction.

“Tomorrow’s Monday,” she says, changing the subject.

“Yeah?” I question, wondering where this conversation is going now.

“I applied to a bunch of places, so I should be out of your hair by the end of the week.”

My jaw clenches involuntarily at the thought of her leaving. “We’ll see about that.”

“You think you can convince me to stay?” she challenges lightly, but I can hear the question underneath.

I take a gulp of water before speaking, letting the silence build. “You already know the answer to that.” I pause, studying her face. “Do you want to get out of the house with me today? I have to run errands.”

“Yeah. I’ll clean up and get ready.”

I nod. “Go get ready. I’ll clean.”

She hops off the stool and walks toward her room, and I can’t help but watch her ass as she moves. The way her hips sway in those cute pajama shorts should be illegal.

As I clean up the lunch dishes, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like if she stayed. Really stayed, not just until she finds somewhere else to run to. Mornings like this one, lazy afternoons, coming home to someone who actually cares if I’m alive or dead.

I could get used to this. Hell, I’m already addicted to having her around.