“Rules?” I parrot, not quite sure what she’s getting at or even if she’s trying to mock me.
“Yes. Obviously not your life rules. More like co-habituation rules. This is your home. I feel a little like Eliza Doolittle from My Fair Lady. It’s freaking me out.”
I tilt my head in her direction. “Never seen it.”
She shakes her head in dismay. “We’ll have to change that. I’m a whore for classic films.”
Right. Not touching on that one. “I don’t exactly have rules for my house. As far as I’m concerned you have free rein of the place. Anything in the kitchen is yours to use or eat. If you have anything specific you like to eat or drink, write it down and my housekeeper, Diane, will get it for you when she comes on Monday.”
“You have a housekeeper?” she interrupts, and I nod.
“Yes. She does all my grocery shopping and cooks a couple of meals for me that I eat during the week. She cleans and does my laundry. What? Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“I don’t know. You’re a single guy.”
“I’m also not home a lot. I don’t really know how to cook the things she does and going grocery shopping isn’t the easiest thing for me to do anymore without being photographed or hounded for autographs. I thought we weren’t judging.”
She stares at me, baffled. “You’re right and I apologize. It’s just… wow. I mean, I know who you are, obviously, it’s just that feels very foreign from this and all we’ve been through in the last twelve hours. Like you’re a rock star and then you’re also this guy.” She waves her hand up and down me in front of me. “Sorry. I digress. Continue what you were saying.”
I smirk, shaking my head at her. “Thank you for permission.” She rolls her eyes at me and I laugh. “Anyway, Diane will get you whatever you like, and no, before you start to argue because I can see it building, you are not paying for any of that. She has a monthly food allowance I never even come close to hitting.” She bites into her bottom lip, something I’m learning she does when she’s uncomfortable or unhappy with something. “I’ll show you how to work the television in the family room and the big screen in the media room—”
“You have a media room?”
“This is going to take a while if you keep interrupting me.”
She throws her good arm up. “Sorry, it’s just… I’m not used to this. Grant me an adjustment period, would ya? You saw my apartment and my dorm before it nor my parents’ trailer were much better.”
“Fine. How about I show you everything later. For now, let me take you to your room.” I walk over to her and clasp her hand, her suitcase in my other, guiding her past the kitchen and the never-used dining room, the office and the music room beside it, the family room, and my gym. I walk her up the floating staircase to the second floor, leading her to the bedroom she’s going to be sleeping in. I turn on her before opening the door and stare into her eyes in the darkness of the hallway. “I don’t have rules. Just be respectful and I’ll do the same. And don’t touch my drums or anything in my music room without asking first.”
She emits a small, shaky breath and then I open the door for her.
“This is your bedroom and bathroom. Mine is down the opposite end of the hall.”
I step back and let her enter first, walking behind her and setting her suitcase which isn’t all that full or all that heavy considering it holds the contents of her life, down on the bench under the window.
I turn to leave when her voice calling my name stops me in my tracks. I spin back around, noting the blush on her cheeks and the nervous shifting of her eyes and gait. “I um. I need some help.”
I want to tease her for finally asking, but this is clearly not the moment for it.
I move back into her, crowding her until she’s forced to meet my gaze. Staring into her eyes, I suddenly feel winded. Breathless. I watch as the dusting of pink on her cheeks grows deeper, her breathing quickening, and I think I know exactly what she needs help with.
“Are you going to take a shower first or just rest?”
She swallows thickly. “I’d like to shower first.”
“And you need help removing your clothes?”
“Yes,” she hums out, her sweet breath fanning across my face and my cock instantly thickens.
I do my best to push away the lust looming in the back of my head. “Are you in pain?”
She looks away, but I cup her jaw, urging her back to me. I like her eyes on me. They’re open windows where everything else about her tries to remain shut. “A little,” she answers softly. Like it’s a weakness she’s loathsome to admit. She’s fighting every single instinct and gut reaction she has right now. Its weight taxing her to her brink.
“Okay. Why don’t you start the water and I’ll go get your meds and—”
“No. I don’t want those pills. I won’t take them,” she interjects sharply.
Right. She mentioned her parents popping pills.
“Tylenol then?”
“Tylenol,” she agrees.
“I’ll get you some of that as well as a bag and tape for your arm.”
With quick, purposeful strides I leave the room and go about the things I need to do. I don’t think about the fact that in a few minutes, I’m going to have my hands on her body. Removing her clothes. Feeling her heat against my fingers and inhaling the scent of her skin. No. I don’t think about any of that. Not yet anyway.
7
Keith
* * *
Fuck. I’m a dirty bastard.
“Focus, motherfucker,” I bark under my breath as my feet hit the first floor.
Except suddenly I can’t.
I brought Maia here to keep her safe and all I can think about is her naked on my bed, her legs splayed wide and her pussy wet. Waiting. Her big tits desperate for my large hands as her chest rises and falls with all the desire she feels for me.
Plastic bag. Tape. Tylenol. Water.
I chant that over and over again until my cock goes from rock-hard to a semi. I scour my downstairs, going through and finding each item she’s going to require one by one. But my heart is already beating faster. Anticipation is licking a sweet trail up my spine.
She may be Pandora and I may be that guy with the E name I can’t seem to remember, but I will not be another asshole in her story. I will not take advantage of her. I will not allow myself to be tempted in the wrong direction from why she’s here.
Plastic bag. Tape. Tylenol. Water.
Right. My mission.
I continue that chant as I take the stairs back up to her room. The sound of water running and her moving about inside halts my movements. My eyes flutter shut, giving myself a moment to collect my thoughts and get myself in line.
Once that’s done, I knock on the door with the hand holding the glass.
“Come in,” she calls out, and I suck in a rush of air, holding it deep in my lungs as I enter.
I set the glass of water and the bottle of Tylenol down on the dresser just as she exits the bathroom. Her shoulders are squared, and her eyes are trained on me as she walks with confidence in my direction. She stops in front of me and I see her struggle unfolding before my eyes.