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It takes me a moment to respond. He sounds busy, and I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t be. Damnit. “I’m off today and want to do nothing but read.” And be with you… I don’t say that part. The last thing I want is to sound like a needy woman who can’t be without her sexy, kinky guy for a day.

Carson nods before sitting up and scooching out of my bed. Grabbing his boxer briefs off the floor, he tugs them back on and reaches for his jeans next. “I should get going.”

My heart droops. I don’t want him to go yet. Will I sound desperate if I ask him to stay?

“Mind if I use your bathroom real quick?”

“No. Sure. Go ahead.” It’ll give me time to recollect myself.

Stupid, Mak. Why don’t you offer him breakfast or ask if he wants to go out later.

While the faucet runs in my bathroom, I quickly throw on some comfy sweats and pull my hair into a messy bun. Carson comes out just as I’m pulling down my sweatshirt that says, “Buy me books and tell me to STFUATTDLAGG.”

He freezes and reads my shirt. Looks me in the eyes. Narrows his gaze back on my shirt and then arches his eyebrow. A knowing smile slides across his face.

“Nice shirt.”

“Thanks.” I smooth it over my chest. “Want pancakes? Eggs? Bacon?”

Hesitation flickers across his face. “No. I probably shouldn’t.” The clanking of his belt buckle sounds loud in my otherwise quiet room while he pulls his jeans on. “What are you reading today?”

“Umm. I have some arcs to finish and a buttload of reviews to post. My bookstagram account needs some attention. I’ve been working so much, I haven’t had time to do anything with it.”

It never came up in conversation, so I don’t think he knew I was a bookstagrammer.

“That’s cool.” He snatches his ripped t-shirt from the floor and we both stare at it. Oh no, he can’t wear that thing home, it’s ruined! Without saying a word, he tosses it into the trash and shrugs at me as if saying “oh well.” But there’s something sad in his eyes, too.

His movements are all stiff and confusing again. He kind of reminds me of a trapped animal that can’t figure a way out.

So I make it easy for him. “Thanks for last night.” I leave my bedroom first, hoping he’ll follow me out.

And praying he doesn’t.

“No problem. Thanks for this morning.” Carson grabs his cell from his back pocket and checks it. His brow digs down for a second, then he pockets the damn thing again. “Enjoy your books.” He heads to the door, and I want to scream for him to stop. I feel like something’s changed and I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what it is.

But something’s wrong. Really wrong.

Panic puts me in a chokehold and all my words get caught in my throat.

Carson pulls open the door and braces against it, as if struggling on whether to stay or go. “If you want to stop by later, I can order takeout. I’ll be at the studio most of the day, but should be home around seven.”

I gulp past the lump lodged in my aching throat. “Umm. Yeah. Maybe. Sure.”

His broad, bare back tenses, all his muscles and taut skin flex, and then I hear the sound of a woman and two kids running down the hall and a door slamming shut. After that, Carson’s shoulders sag and he nods again. Without looking back at me, he steps outside and shuts the door behind him.

I don’t know why, but tears spring to my eyes.

A moment ticks by. Then two. Then three. Looking out my window, my knees feel weak as I watch him get into his car. Turning away, I suck in deep breaths. What on earth just happened between us? What’s happening to me?

I don’t understand why I feel any of the emotions I keep having around this man. Turning away, I swipe the tears from my cheeks, determined not to let myself fall to pieces over something this silly.

Someone pounds loudly on my door, scaring me half to death. I don’t know who that could be, but I’m praying it’s not my neighbor two doors down. She’s annoying and always wants to complain about the landlord. Gathering my composure, I swing the door open.

Carson stands before me, his bare chest rising and falling like he just ran up both flights of steps. I don’t get a chance to ask why he’s back. He cups my face and smashes his mouth to mine in a kiss that steals the air from my lungs and cells out of my brain.

When he pulls away, he says, “Pack your books, pretty girl.”

I don’t give him time to change his mind.