The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. She releases herself from me and heads down the hallway to the right, where she stops at her apartment. I follow and wait for her to unlock her door. When she does, she turns toward me, face serious. “I didn’t invite you up here to have sex.”
“Okay.” I chuckle. “I wasn’t expecting to come up here and have sex.”
“What were you expecting?” she asks.
“Someone to keep me company. Someone to make me laugh. Someone to possibly offer me some food and a drink.”
“Demanding,” she says, opening her door and letting me in. “Clothes off—I’ll grab you a towel.”
“You said no sex, and yet you’re making me strip down?”
“I’m going to dry your clothes for you.” She flips on a light and takes off her jacket and shoes before heading down her hallway, where I hear her open a closet. I take in her quaint apartment. Nothing looks different; then again, I’m not entirely sure I remember what everything looked like when I came here the first time—I was a little too concerned with taking Nora’s bra off. A contrast to her bright-pink cake shop with yellow accents, her apartment is very subdued, monochromatic, with lots of plants lining the span of windows in the living room. “Here you go,” she says, walking into the room and tossing me a white towel.
“What do you expect me to do with this?”
She waves her finger at me. “Strip down, wear it around your waist, stay covered up while your clothes dry.”
“And what do you plan on wearing?”
“A turtleneck and extremely unattractive high-waisted sweatpants.” She smirks and then takes off, back down the hallway. “I’ll be quick, so unless you want me to see your manly bits, I would get undressed quickly.”
“They’re not bits,” I grumble.
When she disappears down the hall, I contemplate the towel for a second and realize there’s no way she’s going to let me sit in her apartment soaking wet. So, towel it is.
I strip out of my coat, pull my shirt over my head, and then take my shoes and socks off, followed by my pants. Glancing down the hallway, I check for her and then quickly take off my briefs before wrapping the towel around my waist and securing it tightly at the side. Bending down, I pick up my wet clothes and walk down the hallway. “Where’s your dryer?” I ask.
“Bathroom,” she calls out. “First door on the right.”
I open the door and stick my clothes in the dryer, grateful for her idea, even though it means I’m wearing a towel and just a towel. I turn on the dryer and turn around to find Nora standing behind me wearing a pair of light-pink silk pants and a matching silk sleeveless top.
I practically swallow my tongue, especially since it’s blatantly obvious that she’s not wearing a bra.
“Uh, that’s not a turtleneck,” I say, unable to stop myself from staring.
But I’m not the only one staring. When I finally look up at Nora, her eyes are eating me up, one inch at a time.
“Started working out, did you?” she asks, walking up to me.
“Yeah,” I say as her hand reaches my chest. She caresses my skin, dragging her fingers over my pecs, and then down my stomach, running across my abs. “If you don’t want to have sex tonight, then you’re going to need to stop that immediately.” My body starts to stir from her touch, and the last thing I want is to have a boner in front of her when there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Am I getting you excited?” she asks, her fingers trailing back up to my pecs.
I reach out and place my hand on her hip, spinning her so she’s pressed up against the bathroom counter. I slip my fingers under her shirt and move them up to her ribs. She sucks in a harsh breath, and I chuckle. “Are you getting excited?”
Eyes wide, she wets her lips. “Touché.” She removes her hand and places it on the counter behind her.
“So, we agree that there will be no touching unless you want this towel ripped off.”
She glances down at the towel and then back up at me. “I don’t think I thought this through.”
“You didn’t.”
“How was I supposed to know you were going to be walking in here like Thor?”
“Thor?” I raise a brow. “That’s quite a comparison.”
“Well . . .” She motions to my body. “Seriously, Cooper. When . . . how?”
I chuckle and release her from my grip. Taking her hand in mine, I lead her out of the bathroom and down the hall to her kitchen. “After our one-night stand, I felt a bit out of control. Like I had no grip on my life. I needed to focus on something, so I focused on my health. Simple as that.”
“More like obsessed,” she mutters. “You’re like a Transformation Tuesday on steroids.”
“Except this is a steroid-free body.”
“Of course.” She gives me another once-over. “I was going to make a frozen pizza, but now I’m afraid you only eat lettuce, and I don’t have any of that.”
“Pizza is fine.” I smirk and walk over to her freezer, where I find four frozen pizzas. “Stock up?”
She reaches past me and grabs one. “Late nights lead to not being in the mood to cook for myself. And, you know, since I’m single and all, I have no one to welcome me home and cook dinner for me.”
“Is that an invitation?” I ask, feeling more confident after her appreciation of my body.
“That’s a statement—take it as you wish.”
While she preheats the oven, I ask, “When do you usually get off work?”
“Depends on the day and how many orders we have. I usually stay later to clean up the kitchen so my employees can go home and have a normal life.”
“That’s nice of you.”
She plops the pizza on a pan and puts it in the oven. “I remember when my parents used to call it a day and just leave all the dishes and pans for everyone else to clean. I’d get so mad. I know they owned the shop, but it wouldn’t have killed them to stay back every once in a while.” She walks over to me and takes my hand, guiding me over to the couch. “I told myself that when I took over the shop, things were going to be different, and guess what? I don’t even have to ask for help now. The employees offer because they see that I’m putting in the work too. But I’ll always be the one who stays late.”
We take a seat on the couch, and I adjust my towel so I’m covered up while she sits down, putting a few inches between us. Her arm drapes behind me on the couch, and her finger starts to draw a small circle on the back of my neck.
“I thought we weren’t touching,” I say, even though what she’s doing feels amazing.
Her finger stops. “This is getting you excited?”
“Nora, any part of you touching me is going to get me excited. Keep that in mind.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flush as she removes her fingers. “My mistake. So maybe I’ll just keep my hands to myself.”
“Might be best,” I say as I glance down to her chest and catch her hardened nipples pressing against her silk top.
Jesus.
This is going to be a long freaking night. I’m still a little confused as to why I’m here. As to why I can’t seem to keep my distance ever since I walked into her shop to order a damn cake.