Page 8

Chapter 8

MICAH

S he was fucking with me. Legit fucking with me.

She had to be.

And I was getting nowhere with this damn puzzle. As soon as she’d mentioned trying yoga, I should’ve spun on my heel and walked right out of the room, but apparently, I was a glutton for punishment, and I’d spent the last twenty minutes staring at her ass way too much and not focusing on this damn puzzle.

I raked a hand through my hair and dropped another piece on the floor. Leaning down to grab it, I hit my head when she called out.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered.

She was destroying my relaxation vibe—this room—my brain.

“You okay over there?” she asked, and I jerked up, hitting my head on the damn table again.

“Shit,” I bit out, rubbing the spot.

“Are you okay?” she repeated, this time with concern in her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just going to let you finish here. I need to fold some laundry,” I said, walking out of the room before she could utter another word.

Fold some laundry .

Fucking hell.

I slipped into my bedroom and pressed my head against the closest wall, internally ordering myself to get it the fuck together. Maybe I just needed to suggest we fuck so I could get her out of my system.

I barked out a laugh. On what planet did I really think that was the easy solution? Turning, I walked into my closet and stared at my clean laundry basket. Which was currently empty because I’d just done all my laundry two days ago and put everything away.

I pulled open my top dresser drawer. Maybe I could sort my socks or boxers. Or reorganize my dress shirts by color.

Or really think about why she was slowly driving me insane.

My teammates would have a field day with my brain right now. I shut the drawer a bit forcefully and stalked out of my bedroom and down the hall, refusing to look inside my relaxation room.

It wasn’t like I could relax on the couch because even though she pushed her blankets to one side every morning, my furniture still smelled like her.

I should go for a run on the roof garden track or use the building gym. Maybe some of the guys would be working out, and I could focus on hanging out with my teammates instead of thinking about all the ways I wanted to get tangled up in the purple hurricane living with me.

I grabbed my water bottle off the kitchen island and took a long gulp as I leaned against the granite top.

“Phew. I’m done in there if you want to go back to puzzling. Wow.” Her voice cut through my brain and I glanced over at her, mesmerized, as she toweled off the faint sheen of sweat on her neck.

“You put away that laundry fast.”

I squeezed my water bottle, but it wasn’t a disposable one that I could crush.

Yup. She was one hundred percent fucking with me. Was that a tiny smirk playing on her lips? What the hell was her angle? And was I reading too much into the ponderings of my dick at her actions instead of thinking with my upstairs brain?

“Ooh, can I have a sip?” she asked, reaching for the water bottle still in my hands. I couldn’t do anything except hand it to her like I was in a damn trance or some shit.

“So good,” she all but moaned.

“Fucking hell, Hurricane. You done?” The words were out before I could stop them.

She held the bottle to her lips and quirked her brow at me. “What? Sorry, I was thirsty.”

“Is that what this is?” I waved my hand between us.

“What what is?” She paused, that delicious smirk back in place.

“You’re torturing me on purpose. Messing with my routine and driving me crazy.”

She pushed out her lower lip, and I wanted to tug it between my teeth.

“I know. I’m sorry. You’re just so easy to tease that I can’t help it. I’ll try harder to resist messing with you. Want me to make you lunch or cookies? Don’t worry, I’m not really baking them. I mean, I am, but I already have some of that oatmeal cookie dough in the fridge. I’ll just add some chocolate chips again to make them actually taste good.”

I tamped down my frustration. Did she really not feel the sexual tension as brutally as I did? I wanted her desperately, but I knew it would be a mistake to pursue anything with her, and the way she was acting, it was pretty obvious she wasn’t interested in me.

Right?

I raked my hand through my hair again for the millionth time today.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not that hungry. I’m going to go upstairs and get a run in,” I said, walking back to my bedroom to change into workout gear before she could utter another word.

I pulled out my phone and tapped on Dom’s name.

Micah: I need to get out of here. You up for a run or something upstairs?

Three dots popped up. Then went away. Then went back up again.

Dom: A run? There’s a shit ton of snow up there. And it’s still coming down hard. You okay?

See. I was fucking rattled. It was March. In Denver.

Micah: Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just want to get in a run. On the treadmill.

Dom: You’re in luck. Ally and Livi are currently napping, so I’ll pull myself away from them to help my troubled friend.

Dom: And I’m nosy as fuck and want to know what sweet Josie has done now.

He finished it off with a laughing emoji.

I groaned. Why had I texted him?

Oh, right, because Josie had me not thinking clearly.

Micah: Forget it. I can text someone else.

Dom: Dude, I’m your best friend on this team. See you up there in five.

What the hell was I doing right now?

I snagged a pair of socks and my running shoes from the closet, ignoring her clothes hung up next to mine. I should’ve made space in the guest room for her stuff.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked as I walked back down the hallway and into the living room. She leaned against the island, her hip popped out, and I clenched my fist.

“Yep. Dom’s up there now.” I snagged my water bottle off the counter.

“Okay. Have fun,” she drew out.

I nodded at her, grabbed my earbuds, keys, and phone, and walked out of my condo.

***

“Dude, you’re a mess. Tell your bestie all about it,” Dom said, a fucking huge grin on his face when I stepped into the gym minutes later.

“You don’t have to look so fucking gleeful about it,” I mumbled.

“You want a refresher of the shit you said to me over the last six months, especially right when Ally moved in four and a half months ago?”

I glanced around the gym and nodded hello to Tyler and Krasny, our fourth-line wingers, who were currently doing weights on the other side of the gym. At least no one else from the team was in here.

“Hop on that treadmill and tell me all about how much you want your roomie.”

“Fuck, you’re annoying.”

He chuckled and stepped onto the machine, starting it at a warm-up speed. “You’re not denying it.”

I jammed my water bottle into the holder on the treadmill next to him and climbed on, putting my speed a few notches higher than his.

He quickly tapped his screen to match my pace and then set his incline two points higher than mine.

Dick.

“So,” he drew out.

I squeezed the sides of the treadmill.

“She’s driving me crazy. She’s sleeping on my couch. Puttering around my kitchen. Her scent is everywhere. There’s only one bathroom. I can’t escape her.”

“Don’t I know that,” he muttered. “Wait. Why is she on the couch again? You have a second bedroom, and it’s not like you’re hard up and can’t furnish it.”

I sucked in a breath. “I don’t have a bed in there. I, uh, use it for something else.”

He quirked a brow at me.

“Fine. It’s my relaxation room. I have it set up as a yoga space and for my puzzles.”

“Puzzles? How much space do you need to do a damn puzzle?”

“Fuck off. I like them. They’re relaxing. And I have a lot of them and a special table set up.” I sighed. “There isn’t room for a bed and stuff. It’s my routine, okay?”

“Fine, fine. Can’t mess with routine. I get that. Just didn’t expect you to tell me you filled a room with jigsaw puzzles.” A grin pulled at his lips.

“I wasn’t planning on having a roommate, and I know it hasn’t even been two weeks, but she’s rattling me,” I admitted.

“I bet she is. That room’s probably not very relaxing anymore.”

“Nope. She decided to try doing yoga in there this morning while I was working on a puzzle. I swear she’s driving me crazy on purpose.”

“And what if she is? You guys have a history, right?”

“Sort of. I mean, not like yours, but I would be smart not to revisit it. Fuck, can you take your speed down a notch?” I gasped out.

“Can’t keep up, old man?”

“Fuck off. You’re only a year younger than me.”

“So, have you thought about just kissing her and seeing what happens?”

“More than I want to admit,” I muttered.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

So many things. So many fucking things.

But it didn’t stop me from fixating on the idea of walking back into my condo and doing exactly that as soon as I got off this damn treadmill.

JOSIE

I pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven. The edges looked a little crispy once again, but it wasn’t my fault that the timer had gone off while I was working on the perfect shading of the hero’s flexed abs in a drawing for a new author client, Jane. He was showing off for the heroine while wearing a cape and very little else.

The cookies were fine and loaded with chocolate chips. Maybe they would put Micah in a less grouchy mood after his workout. Yes, I’d totally been messing with him with my yoga poses and questions, but I couldn’t help myself around him. I was flustered because I wanted him, and driving him crazy was just too enjoyable to pass up. I giggled at the memory of him dropping puzzle pieces and then stomping out of the condo.

Okay. I was kind of being an asshole, too. I shouldn’t mess with his routines, but it was just so damn easy. I pulled out a baking rack and moved the cookies off the cookie sheet, snagging one and blowing on it before I took a bite.

Shit. That was hot but so good. Chocolate really did make even boring oatmeal edible. I slid another one onto a plate and sat down at the kitchen island with my tablet. Putting the finishing touches on my drawing, I sent it over to Jane and then checked my Etsy shop for new orders. I had a shift tomorrow night at Tipsy and a few dogs to walk and play with today. Yeah, I didn’t have my own place or car, and my savings account was minimal, but I loved my variety-filled life. The thought of people stuck in one boring job just so they felt responsible was stifling.

I fixed my messy bun and scanned through my emails. There was a new request for an author avatar and logo. She wanted graphics that fit the romantasy genre, one of my favorites. I loved that I was getting more clients weekly just from word of mouth. Opening up my calendar, I scheduled her in and messaged her back with dates before I pulled up another spicy image I’d started yesterday. The hero had full-sleeve tattoos, and it’d taken everything in me not to add a few of Micah’s to the arms.

He’d definitely lose his mind if his tattooed arms wound up on a sexy illustration online. Not that his own photos on a quick Google search weren’t spicy already. It wasn’t like I’d looked him up online that often, of course. They were just easy to find.

Heat pooled in my belly, and I did a little shimmy in my seat. Freaking hell, I shouldn’t want to make out with him as much as I did. It was probably the forbidden aspect that made me keep thinking about what I wanted to do to him. And the forced proximity.

Yeah, I’d been reading too many romance novels lately.

I needed to clear my head. What could I make for dinner tonight? Maybe he was going to avoid the condo all day or eat elsewhere. I should have felt a bit guilty about that since it was his day off and his condo.

Taking the last bite of the cookie on my plate, I slipped off the barstool and walked into the kitchen, then opened the fridge to get some inspiration. I was already defrosting steaks—ooh, maybe shrimp and steak tacos. I usually made a delicious chimichurri sauce to go with them, and I’d just grabbed cotija cheese and tortillas yesterday.

The front door opened, and I stood up, calling out, “Steak and shrimp tacos for dinner tonight? I mean, if you’re eating here.”

“Uh, sure. Yeah, I’m here.”

He sounded off, but any thoughts of teasing him dissipated when he walked in front of the island in all his sweaty glory. I sucked in a breath as he tugged his shirt off and wiped his face with it, his arm muscles bunching as he shifted his body, the tattoos on his arms dancing. My body clenched with a rush of heat.

His shirt passed over his face. “Did you make cookies? And it doesn’t look like a bomb went off.”

I rolled my eyes, getting my wits about me again. “Very funny. It’s that refrigerated cookie dough, and I added chocolate chips. If you’re not going to be nice, you can’t have any.” I crossed my arms over my chest, pretending to pout, and did not miss how his eyes were drawn to my boobs.

Ha. Take that, you with your stupid hot arm porn just out and about on display.

“I’m very nice.”

There was a grit in his voice that had me shivering all over again.

“We’ll see. They’re very tasty but only for good boys.”

“I’m a good boy, too.”

Why were his comments sexually charged? Or was I imagining that?

“Uh, I’m going to jump in the shower. Tacos sound nice, too,” he said.

Then he was striding down the hallway, his athletic shorts stretching across his glorious ass with every step.

I spun on my heel, opened the freezer door, and stuck my head in it to cool down.

My phone beeped, reminding me that I had dogs to walk and needed to change into something warmer. I pulled open the bedroom door and was greeted by Micah, his back to me, clad only in his boxer briefs.

Freaking.

Hell.

In a handbasket.

I practically swallowed my tongue and tried not to drool. His ass was a thing of glory. It was like a fucking perfect bubble that I could definitely bounce a quarter off of.

Then his ass was spinning away from me, and he held his shorts in front of him as he faced me.

“Josie. What the hell?” he exclaimed, his cheeks pink.

“Sorry! Shit, sorry. I thought you were already in the shower, and I have to change to go walk dogs,” I replied, unable to take my eyes off his ass. And then his abs as he turned to face me.

So many abs.

“Well, I’m not,” he bit out.

My gaze darted up to his face. “Wait. Were you going to strip down in here and walk to the bathroom naked?”

What had possessed me to ask that?

He raked his hand through his hair in frustration and the shorts he’d been holding slipped from his grip. I should not look, but my eyes moved down before I could tell them to stop.

He was hard.

Impressively hard.

Not that I didn’t know he was decently packing after waking up in bed with him, but this was the first time I had seen the evidence. Well, not specifically, since his boxers were still on. Unfortunately.

I tamped down a giggle at how hot and awkward I suddenly felt.

He leaned over and grabbed his fallen shorts, holding them over his tented boxers way too quickly. Those fast hockey player reflexes were annoying.

“Get out,” he growled.

He really shouldn’t growl at me if he wanted me to walk out of here and not kiss him.

“Josie.” The veins in his forearms popped as he clutched the fabric in front of him.

Fucking hell. Arm porn for days.

“Yes, yes. Sorry. I’m going, I’m going.” I shut the door behind me and leaned against the wall, trying not to laugh while I caught my breath. Holy crap, he’d just gotten hotter with age, and he’d already been scorching when we’d had our only kiss four years ago. I licked my lips. I definitely wanted to kiss that man again, even though it would most likely end in disaster.

I walked back into the kitchen to gather some dog treats, and by the time I was done, I heard the bathroom door shut. Popping back into the bedroom, I quickly changed, pulling on a few extra layers since it was still freezing out and two of today’s clients didn’t live in this building.

I yelled goodbye to Micah as I walked back past the bathroom door, grabbed my stuff, and shut the front door behind me. A walk in the brisk cold was undoubtedly a good thing for me right now because I was still on fire.