Sway With Me(26)

Inching her way around the front corner of the bed, she bumped into something solid. His hand cupped her shoulder sending another wave of heat through her core.

“Which one of us got the wrong idea, Portia?” he asked softly.

She sucked in a breath and stood to face him. “I didn’t mean to imply either one of us actually got the wrong idea, just that it was possible since we’d slept in the same bed together.”



The corners of his mouth twitched as if he was suppressing a smile. “I’m a big boy. I promise you, one night in bed with you did not change the way I feel one bit.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Well . . . good. Me, either.”

“Come on, let’s grab a cup of coffee on our way to Home Depot. My treat.” He bumped her shoulder with his before he walked out of the room.

She meant it. Sleeping with Ryan hadn’t changed her feelings at all. She wanted him before and she still wanted him. Thank goodness he wasn’t attracted to her because if he made a move, she didn’t think she’d have the power to resist him. No, it was better this way. And though her mind completely understood her position, she’d have to spend some time convincing her lady parts all the reasons why having sex with Ryan Sullivan would be a terrible idea.





Chapter 8



Fie, what a question’s that

If though wert near a lewd interpreter!

William Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, act 3, scene 4

“I can’t believe you’ve never been inside Home Depot before,” Ryan said as he started the car to head to Braden’s house.

They had spent the last two hours shopping for items they’d need to fix up the mansion. He’d concentrated on things like tools, a ladder, flashlights, electrical testing equipment, and gloves, while Portia had practically bought out the entire cleaning section. He had a hard time thinking of such a delicate woman scrubbing mold off of dishes and cleaning toilets, but then again, she’d grown up in communes, shelters, and tents.

He wondered why she’d lived like a nomad when her aunt had been married to a billionaire. If he’d grown up as she had, rather than in a mansion with all his basic needs fulfilled without a second thought, he’d probably be bitter. Yet, she didn’t seem to hold it against his family. In a way, he envied the way she didn’t fixate on the past, but instead, focused on her future.

A clicking noise caught his attention and he looked over at Portia as she tried unsuccessfully to get her seatbelt latched. He reached over the center console and stayed her hand. “Here, let me help.” With a blush on her cheeks, she released the belt and he grabbed it, easily buckling it.



“The tongue is a little bent so it doesn’t always fit properly into the buckle. You have to play with it a little.”

She mumbled her thanks, the blush spreading down her neck just before she glanced out the window. “It’s not as though we had a Home Depot at every corner. I think there was one store in all of New York City. But, then again, why would I have ever needed it? I lived in a shoebox apartment. If I needed something fixed, I called the super. And then, thirty days later, voilà, it was fixed.”

She may have capable hands, but she didn’t know the first thing about maintaining a home. And he was planning to use that to his advantage to show her how difficult it was to own a house this size. “Have you ever fixed a pipe?”

She raised an eyebrow as if she was on to him. “No. Have you?”

He thought back to his own childhood. His father wasn’t the type to show his sons how to fix a sink. He did teach them how to find the very best plumber in the area and make sure they’d come running on a minute’s notice day or night. “Not in a house, no. But it can’t be harder than fixing an exhaust pipe in my car.”

She cracked a smile. “I don’t think it’s as easy as you think. Maybe we should get some quotes for a contractor.”

“Trust me. No one is going to work on what we’re getting from Uncle Al’s estate. It’s barely enough to cover the supplies. No, if we want to have this house ready to sell in three months, we’ll have to do the work ourselves.”

“Except I don’t want to sell, and I’m not working on a deadline. I’m fixing it up for me, not for some unknown buyer.”

He gave her a quick glance. “Portia, how do you suppose you’re going to be able to buy out my half?”

“You seem like a decent guy.” Her hand squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sure we can come to some agreement. Some way to make us both satisfied.”



The low, raspy tone of her voice and the suggestiveness of her words sent his blood flow south. He knew exactly how to keep them both satisfied—nights spent sliding in and out of her tight, wet heat, bringing them to climax over and over. Unfortunately, he didn’t think that’s what she meant. “Like what?”