But my excitement is cut short when he sweeps down and throws me over his shoulder, walking back toward the door with me dangling.
“What are you doing?” I ask through a laugh.
Maggie smiles as she watches us, acting as though we’re her favorite show.
“I left at least three lights on,” he says while carrying me across the yard.
Crap.
“I didn’t do anything. I swear. Your window is locked.”
“I locked it so you couldn’t get in anymore, but I left three lights on, and now they’re all off.”
I just giggle, but then I see my Camry. Holy shit! It looks brand new. Better than brand new. Are those real wheels? And new tires? And tinted windows? It doesn’t even look like the same car, and that’s just what I can see under the glow of the streetlight.
“Hey! Let me see my car. It looks incredible!” I exclaim excitedly.
“Sure. Right after you walk me around my house. I don’t want to end up like one of the idiots from Home Alone with a scalded hand, a burned head, or a nailed foot.”
I can’t help but giggle. “No trust,” I mock, and he snorts derisively.
“Hell no.”
He stands me upright when we reach his porch, and he hands me his keys while keeping his front to my back, his body flush against mine.
“Open the door,” he says impatiently, and I bite back a grin.
Very purposely, I bend over and make sure my rear rubs his crotch. He doesn’t move as I squint in the darkness to try and see the keyhole, taking much longer than necessary.
“Tonight would be good,” he jokes, his voice full of amusement as his crotch stays firmly planted against my ass.
“Yeah, yeah,” I murmur in a putout tone.
Finally, I push the door open, and flick on the first light. “See? Your doorway isn’t rigged with a blow torch, and your door handle is nice and cool to the touch.”
He pokes his head in very warily, and he looks around, cautiously gauging every possible attack point.
“There could still be room for a nail in the foot.”
I let him guide me through the house from behind me, but his hands on my hips become distracting. I stare down at them, and he suddenly brings me to an abrupt stop.
“You’re about to run over a wall,” he says through a chuckle. “It helps to look up when you walk.”
He steers me to the right, and we walk through his kitchen, which calls to me. “I really want to cook in there.”
“That’s what you said last night,” he mumbles, not sounding overly enthused.
“I’m not going to poison you, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’d be too much of a waste to cook a meal in there and then ruin it.”
I expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps steering me into each room, forcing me to flip on the lights and walk around.
I laugh in between each new shift, but I can’t see his expression. He must be terrified since he’s being so quiet. That makes me a little proud.
“It’s safe,” I promise, lying my ass off.
He’ll find a few things soon enough. Most of it is in his massive, beautiful bathroom that I really want to play in. The all-tile shower has five showerheads, and they all looked like so much fun. Damn, I love his house.
When we reach his bedroom, my sharp intake of breath is unbidden and embarrassing. I was in here earlier, but he wasn’t home, so it didn’t really dawn on me how much magnitude this room holds.
His massive, king-size bed barely makes a dent in his ungodly sized room. Kings would envy a room this enormous. Maggie’s house is so small by comparison.
“Why do you live in the suburbs?” I ask, trying hard to swallow my nerves as we move around the room, getting closer to his bed.
“I have a house on the beach, but this place is closer to the garage. And it’s the one adult purchase I’ve made since I became an adult,” he says with no emotion.
“You had to make an adult purchase?”
“Well, this room seems fine. Now to the bathroom,” he says instead of answering me.
After we make it through the bathroom—where he doesn’t find either of my traps—we move back through his bedroom, and I chance a glance at the bed. I can’t help but wonder if I might make it there tonight.
The very thought almost makes me lightheaded. But he pushes me out of his room and back to the living room, finally seeming pleased that nothing too rancorous is going to jump out and get him.
Now I need to go grab the groceries for our dinner.
“Do you need a ride to Tag’s?” he asks. “I have a driver for the night. The car will be here in about twenty minutes. I just need time to change.”