Page 44 of Naked Coffee Guy

“Well, so do I. But I’m not letting you take me home; a girl needs her secrets after all. For now, it’s where I live.”

I want to argue, but I have no fucking right.

“So, where do I take you?”

“To Benji’s house,” she says. I start to protest, but she places her hand on my arm. “Not to go inside, I can walk home from there. We’re wasting time. Didn’t you say he’s in a state?”

She’s right, and I have been feeling pulled to get there ever since I heard the voicemail. But now I am plagued with conflict, especially at my reaction to Maren almost using the “G” word.

“Besides,” she continues, “I should get home and freshen up in case any of my other dates want to take me out for a good time.”

She squeals as I grab her around the waist and bring her into me. I capture her hands, and she grins, even as she’s unable to move.

“Like hell you will,” I say, then force a kiss on her. There really isn’t much forcing going on, though. She matches my kiss with the same ferocity, bringing me back to what it felt like to hold her all night long. That surprises me more than anything. My dick is straining to attention, wanting a replay of this morning’s fuck session. But my mind is on the feel of her body close to mine, how she looked while she was asleep, the sweet smell of her breath with every inhale.

If the situation were different, if I weren’t such a liar, I’d tell Maren where she could shove this whole casual relationship. Fuck casual. If things were different, Maren would already be mine, and there would never be anyone else for either of us.

Chapter Seventeen

Maren

I know it killed Mac to drive me to Benji’s house only for me to walk home. I don’t really care if he knows where I live anymore. We’ve gone far beyond the boundaries of what was supposed to be casual, but there are still barriers between us. Which is why I’m keeping my living quarters private, and why I still haven’t told him I know he’s the agent who sold my home—and I probably never will.

At this point, it’s more embarrassment than anything that keeps my mouth shut. The fact that I ever cared as strongly as I did in the first place. Now that I’ve had some space from that apartment, I’ve gained some perspective on what a dump that place was. The funky smells. The mold growing in the corners. All the things that stopped working. The maintenance guy used to be prompt whenever something broke down, but eventually all requests for maintenance went unanswered—even though I was fucking Brock, the goddamn apartment manager.

But also, I was embarrassed that I couldn’t afford anything more than that. Waking up in Mac’s mansion of a house really highlighted that for me, even staying in Nina’s house. I mean, I already knew my house was a shithole compared to other people’s homes, but now it’s even more apparent.

I’ve never been one to care what people think of me. Fuck them if they can’t handle what I’m about. So it’s dumb that it suddenly matters with Mac. But it does. So, Mac doesn’t need to know that I lived in an apartment that probably should have been torn down ages ago. And to keep my barrier intact, my current living situation can just remain a mystery.

I laugh as I walk home, Google Maps leading the way, knowing the unfairness of the situation. I not only know where he lives, but I now know the exact location of his benefactor’s home—where he’s apparently been staying for weeks instead of his fancy McMansion, judging by his morning strolls. I can stalk him whenever I want…or avoid him. I’m stuck between the two, knowing I’m falling for him a lot more than I should.

Isn’t this the point when I usually kick them to the curb? When I realize I’m starting to catch feelings?

But with Mac…

Last night—after a day of disaster—when it was apparent my family was no longer mine, he treated me with such care. He wasn’t afraid of my tears. I never cry in front of anyone, but he was there for me in my lowest moment. The feral way we fucked on the side of the road, my knees probably scarred for life because of it. The gentle way he washed my hair. How he held me all night long in his massive bed.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let him go, which means I’ve let this go on far too long. The thought of losing him scares me more than falling in love.

Now I have a full day ahead of me, thanks to Mac calling me out sick. It’s kind of a waste since I won’t be spending it with him, and while I get it, I can’t help feeling a bit lost now that our plans fell through.

I hate that I feel lost, I hate that I’m even falling for him, and yet, I can’t stop the reel of memories from last night that’s on repeat in my mind. I’m not sure I want to.

The door is unlocked when I get home, which is so classic Nina. For someone who has a big house all her own, she sure is careless with it. But that’s Nina for you.

I glance at the time on my phone. It’s three hours into my shift, which means I have the house to myself for another—

“Last night’s clothes, huh?”

I jump out of my skin at Nina’s voice, and she laughs as she looks me up and down.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?”

“Headache,” she shrugs, though the glint in her eye lets me know there is no headache.

“So who’s running the shop?” I can feel a thread of obligation to turn myself around and head to Insomniacs, knowing that there definitely won’t be enough coverage without both of us.

“Let Susan handle it for once,” Nina says, flopping on the couch, then patting the pile of clothes beside her. “Spill,” she says, “and leave nothing out.”