“It can be hard.” He pulled the door shut behind himself as he entered her apartment for the first time. There were black and white art prints on the walls – lots of them. Landscapes, skylines and portraits, many of which were familiar.
“I didn’t know you displayed any of these in your home.” He nodded toward a dramatically-lit shot of a man’s back, the focus of which was a sea of ink, complete with a ship sailing at full mast.
“Yeah. Some of my favorites, anyway.”
He scanned the portraits, satisfaction settling a little deeper into his bones each time he spotted a photo of one of his clients. Looked like most of her favorites were his work. “You have good taste.”
She smiled faintly. “Do you want to watch a movie or something? I was thinking of putting one in.”
“Sure.” He’d do whatever she wanted. He held no delusions about his role in her life at the moment – he was there just to be there for her, to do whatever would help put her at ease.
“I was thinking a comedy. Nothing too serious. What kind of movies do you like?”
“I’ll watch just about anything.”
The couch was a loveseat. It was pretty standard for a single person’s small apartment. It also put him noticeably close to Karen when he sat down. He settled on one end, with an arm on the rest, but they were still close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her body.
He tried not to think about it and willed himself not to notice the scent of her freshly-washed skin. It was strong, though – she must have showered recently. Damn it, it was hard not to picture that. In his mind’s eye, he could see hot water rushing over the curves he’d gotten to know less than 48 hours ago.
“Hope you haven’t seen this one already,” she said, scooting into the center of the couch and leaning against him as the movie started.
“Nope,” he said, trying not to tense as her breast pressed against his bicep, soft and warm. Damn it, how was he supposed to watch the movie like a normal person with her draped over his side?
It was a selfish question – he was supposed to be there to support her, however she needed him to do that, and instead he was sitting ramrod-straight against the back of the couch worrying about an impending hard-on.
There was nothing he could do about it, nothing he could say as the movie played, failing to elicit laughter from either of them. He let her lean on him, because that was what he was there for – figuratively and literally, apparently – and tried not to enjoy it too much.
When the movie ended, Jed resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. An hour and twenty minutes had rarely gone by so slowly or so torturously. When Karen sat up straight and shut off the TV with the press of a button, he became hopeful that his half-hard cock would finally soften.
“Can I get you something, Jed? There’s not much ready to eat, but I could maybe whip something up, and there are drinks in the fridge. I just realized that you brought me that coffee, and I haven’t offered you a thing.”
“Don’t worry about it. And you’re not cooking.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll order something in – what do you like?”
“You don’t have to do that. I—”
“You need to eat.” He tried not to sound too domineering, but it was true, and no way was he going to let her lift a finger on his behalf.
She glanced toward the nearest window, as if thinking of the places beyond. “There’s this Japanese place that has great noodles. Sakura Sake House.” She frowned.
“Do you know the number?”
She recited it from memory, and he caught himself filing the fact that she liked Japanese food away for future use.
Hitting call, he attempted to wipe the information from his brain. Her favorite foods were none of his business because he wasn’t romancing her. He told himself that over and over as he remembered the feel of her body leaning against his, curled on the couch.
When the food arrived, they ate together at the kitchen table. There were prints hanging there too, and a couple of them were Jed’s work. He fought to stifle the sense of prideful pleasure that came from knowing she’d been admiring his work in her home all this time. It was foolish, anyway – after all, it was her work, too.
It was their work.
Laying down a pair of bamboo chopsticks, he met her eyes. “It’s starting to get late.” The sky was a dusky purple beyond the kitchen window. “I’m glad to keep you company, but I don’t want to keep you up, either. You have to be exhausted.”
She laid down her chopsticks, too. “I am tired. But I don’t want you to go, Jed. Not unless you need to – or want to.”