"But you just got back. Don't you get a day off?"
Bancroft shrugs. "Not much to do around here once I'm unpacked. I have lots of debriefing and meetings in the next few days. I might as well get a head start. Besides, it'll keep me from falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon."
"That's a good idea." I hate how uncomfortable this is right now. "Okay. Well, I should go. Maybe I'll see you in the morning?"
"Sounds good. Break a leg tonight."
I grimace, not because I'm actually worried about breaking anything, aside from my recent, botched auditions, I'm typically graceful, but because it feeds into the lie.
"Is that the wrong thing to say?" Bancroft asks.
I force a smile. "No, not wrong at all. Thanks. Thank you." I'm stumbling over my words, aware I need to leave, but I'm having a hard time not going in for a hug.
It turns out I don't need to worry about it. As I step around Bancroft his huge hand wraps around my wrist. The sensation is damn well magical. It's been almost five weeks since he's touched me. Longer than that since he's kissed me-accidentally or not. In that time I've been flirting my ass off with him on the phone. So much flirting. So much self-gratifying once I'm no longer on the phone with him.
And right now he's touching me. I must make some kind of noise, because his gaze locks on mine and he hesitates. It's only for the briefest moment. I don't want to lose this opportunity, so I step toward him. It's enough of a positive signal. He tugs me closer still, and wraps his free arm around me.
Now the contact isn't limited to his hand wrapped around my wrist, it's his entire, massive frame pressed up against mine. He winds an arm around my waist, his palm smoothing over my lower back, pulling me in tighter. I imagine how much different this would've been had it happened when I was still just wearing a towel.
I swear I hear a hum come out of him. And I barely resist the urge to drop my hand to his ass and give it a squeeze.
I'm pretty sure I feel his nose in my hair and his breath on my neck before he lets me go. When he steps back he jams his hands in his pockets.
"I'm glad you're home," I say. "Safely. Home safely," I tack on at the end, although it doesn't help much with the breathless quality of my voice or the fact that every nerve in my body is singing.
"Me, too." Based on the gravelly tone, I'd like to think I'm not alone in this feeling.
"Okay. Well, I should really go now."
"'Kay." He nods a bunch of times.
"See you in the morning." It's only possible if I'm still awake when he gets up.
"Definitely."
I leave the condo before I say or do anything stupid. Now more than ever it's apparent that I need to find a new place. I have feelings for this man, and it's not just about wanting to get naked with him. The feelings have become real over the past several weeks. For me at least.
If I keep socking away the money from my tips, I should have enough for first and last in the next month or so, maybe sooner. The longer I stay here, the more difficult it's going to be to manage the sexual tension between us, if this welcome home is any indicator.
At this point, I'd really like to get out of his space before I get into his bed. Sleeping with him while I'm still dependent on him for a place to live creates an inequity I don't want to deal with. I never want to be in a position where I feel like I'm being kept and that's exactly what this will be for me.
Chapter 15: Accidental Snuggles
RUBY
By the time I get home from work it's almost two in the morning. The condo is quiet. I assume Bancroft is asleep. As I head for bed I nearly bypass my own room and keep going to his. That would be a colossally embarrassing mistake.
For the first time since he left on his trip I sleep in the spare bedroom that's supposed to be mine. It feels really strange.
Bancroft is walking around the apartment in a pair of boxers.
Aside from the boxers he's naked. No shirt. No socks. Just boxers. And for some reason they're all wet and clinging to him. I don't know why he's wet, but I offer to help him out of his soggy underwear, dripping on the floor, making a messy puddle around his feet. I reach for the waistband aware I seem to be going against my own plan not to sleep with him, and watch goose bumps rise along his skin. Just as I pull them over his hips I wake up.
So much sadness.
The dream fades away and all I'm left with is dry mouth and zinging clit. I reach for the glass on the nightstand, but it's empty. It's four in the morning. I've only been asleep for an hour. I don't remember finishing it off before I fell asleep. I do, however, remember rolling my marble while shoving my face in my pillow to thoughts of Bancroft before I passed out. The extra exertion probably didn't help with my thirst issues. I also have a headache, possibly from being underhydrated. Diva told me to drink more water last night, but it must not have been enough.