He settled his right palm on her hair. “You’re okay.”
A laugh burst out of her, followed by more tears. “Yes, landlord. I know I’m okay. Are you okay?”
“I’m more worried about you.” He gave a testing stroke of her hair, his heart thudding when she angled her head. Was she asking for more? “Do you like this?”
“Yes,” she mumbled into his chest. “It’s nice.”
“I’m just sitting here.”
“You haven’t run off to the kitchen or checked your phone yet,” she said, her fingers slipping through his chest hair. “Maybe you’re better at this after part than you think.”
Blake had only recently escaped from the ninth circle of jealousy hell but her innocuous comment threatened to send him back there, because it was a hint about what she was used to. Proof she hadn’t been getting what she deserved. With Autumn rubbing her cheek on his chest and her body limp from sex, though, he was able to remain in one of the outer circles. For now. Autumn seemed content to sit there forever and Blake found he was too. Just sitting in the quiet, his arms around Autumn in a protective shield, watching the flush fade from her skin. This was something else he could give her. Something beyond the fantasies.
What if there was enough inside him to give? Enough that she would stay in New York?
Blake gave an inward scoff, but looking at the sunshine-laced crown of Autumn’s head, he couldn’t stop himself from picturing it. He wanted to keep her. Might as well admit that. He’d been wanting to keep her for some time—long before she’d broken up with the scumbag, and now that he had her in his lap, her lips parted, her cheek pressed to his heartbeat, the possibility had never seemed more real. Christ, if she went away, he’d spend every minute wondering if she was safe, warm and happy. Razor sharp stones clogged his throat just thinking about it.
Autumn’s breathing changed and Blake realized she was staring up at him, her hazel eyes tired, but curious. His instinct was to look away, make a suggestion about getting off the damn floor and putting on clothes. But he didn’t. He stared right back and did what felt right. What his gut told him they both needed. He tightened his arms around her and rocked, right to left, leaning down to kiss her forehead every so often. In stages, she loosened even more. Her shoulders, neck, knees, like he’d waved a magic wand over them. Blake didn’t know how long they stayed there on the floor rocking her in the dark, it could have been five minutes or forty. When he sensed Autumn was ready, he stood, tucking her against his chest and walking toward his bedroom.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled.
He looked down at her. “I want you to stay.”
Her gaze widened and Blake cursed under his breath. “Tonight. I mean I want you to stay here tonight. In my bed.”
Autumn’s mouth curved into a smile against his bicep. “I think it’s for the best. These hallways aren’t safe at night.”
Knowing she was referring to their game, Blake gave her a gentle squeeze then laid her down on his bed. She immediately burrowed into his covers with a sleepy yawn and the natural step would have been to join her. Yet, seeing her there froze him in place. No one besides him had ever slept in his bed and she looked so tiny on the king-sized mattress. The protectiveness over holding her in his arms kicked up another few notches. There seemed to be an endless number of notches where this girl was concerned.
“I’m guessing you haven’t had many sleepovers,” she murmured into his pillow, blonde hair framing her face. “Seems like a missed opportunity to have pillow fights with Mrs. Zhu. Or maybe you’re more of the facials-and-boy-talk type.”
God, she was adorable.
Stop staring at her like an idiot. Blake shook himself and climbed into the bed, holding his breath as Autumn slipped an arm across his chest, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. “I’ve gone to one sleepover and it involved zombie movies and a Sharpie mustache being drawn on the first to fall asleep.”
“When you were just a baby boy?”
“Yes.”
He felt her smile. “Were you the mustache recipient?”
“There’s a reason I’ve only gone to one sleepover. It was a handlebar with curls at the end. I didn’t go to school for two days.”
Autumn’s giggle tugged at the corners of his own lips and he didn’t bother hiding it in the darkness. “The one I draw on you tonight will be much more fashionable. You’ll be able to wear it out to brunch and blend right in with the hipsters.”
“Just what I’ve always wanted.”
Her fingertips drew patterns on his chest. A hexagon with a smiley face inside, if he wasn’t mistaken.
“Blake?” He was trying to be discreet about smelling her hair, so he only hummed. “Maybe this is a stupid thing to bring up when everything is so lovely, but I’m sorry about what happened tonight. With…you know. The text that shall not be named. On the walk back, I was trying to imagine how I’d feel if the same thing happened. You know, if you got a nude right while I was sitting there. I think it would have hurt, way more than it should have.”
Surprise had Blake’s formally heavy eyelids wide open. “You’d have been jealous?”
“Are you serious? You told me you’d almost been married, like a gazillion years ago and I didn’t even like hearing that. Add photo evidence and I’d…” She trailed off, her fingers drumming on his chest. “I’m trying to stop myself from being seriously masochistic and asking for more details about this woman.”
“What would that accomplish besides upsetting you?”
She tilted her head to eye him in the dark. “Some guys would enjoy a girl being jealous over them.”
Blake examined how he felt about Autumn coveting him. “I’d like knowing you were…interested enough to be jealous. But I’d want to make it stop at the same time. I wouldn’t want you to be hurt.”
Autumn nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. “There’s no one like you, landlord.”
“Considering I just put you in a closet, you’re not far off.”
She laughed. “The crazy thing is if you were holding me, I could probably hear the whole fiancée story and be fine. Something about the way your hands feel on my skin…It makes me calm.”
Satisfaction kicked him in the belly, freeing a grunt. “Then that’s where I’ll keep them.”
Beneath the covers, Autumn’s hand traveled down over his hip, the pads of her fingers brushing his thigh. “Will you tell me how you injured your leg?”
His instinctual reaction to having his weakness discussed was to shut the conversation down. Or change the subject to something he was far more interested in discussing—her. But just like earlier, when he’d rocked Autumn on the floor, he found himself trying to give her more. “My injury…it’s part of the story. I broke the engagement right after it happened.”
“I knew it. She stabbed you.”
“What?” Blake looked down to find her smothering a teasing smile. “No stabbing, but we should probably discuss what you’ve been watching on TV.”
“It’s not TV’s fault. I’m cheating on it with a lot of true crime podcasts. Did you know that it’s almost impossible to identify someone at a crime scene through genetic evidence? Like, unless you blow a load all over the floor and you’re already in the criminal database, all the cops can do is collect your cum and hope you strike again.”
Blake couldn’t believe it. Discussing one of the darkest periods of his life and this angel—yes, fuck it, Autumn was an angel—could still make him want to laugh. “We should discuss your stand-up routine, Fun-Size. You’re the first person in a long time—hell maybe ever—that’s showed me the humor in every situation.”
As he spoke, her smile gradually faded. “Thank you.”
He tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “Will you perform it for me?”
“I…I’ll definitely think about it.” Her expression turned suspicious. “Are you petting me and telling me I’m funny to distract me from your murderous ex-fiancée?”
“No. I mean it.” Blake sighed and drew her closer, closing his eyes as memories rushed back, a decade old and still so fresh. “I told you I was a sandhog, right? Up until about ten years ago. We were working on the second avenue subway tunnel. I’d been on the job about a month when there was an explosion. A slow gas leak and a spark was all it took. A metal bar embedded itself in my leg.”
“Shit! Ouch! Oh my God, Blake.”
Not used to sympathy, Blake gave her another awkward head pat. “It doesn’t hurt very often, anymore,” he lied. “Anyway, she was a nurse at the hospital where they brought me. A big one across town and it must have been fate or karma or something, but they paired me with the surgeon she’d been seeing behind my back. She wasn’t assigned to me, but she came to visit…and when I saw them together, I just knew.”
“I’m sorry.” Autumn was quiet for a moment. “We’ve both been fucked over. Is that why you get so upset over Ian? You remember what it was like?”
“No. I get upset over Ian because I hate the thought of him touching you, or holding you, or anything with you.” The outburst was too telling and he immediately wished he could take it back. “But I guess that’s part of it. Being blindsided hurts, whether you’re in love with the person or not.”
“You weren’t in love with her?”
He shook his head, snippets of memories coming back to him in blurs of shadow and light. Walking on the boardwalk in Rockaway, bikes weaving in figure eights, laughter and arguments, all the moments that made up his youth. “Me and Jodie grew up together. Breaking up would have fractured the group. The group is everything when you’re twenty.” Discomfort spread in his throat. “It’s the betrayal itself that hurts most, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” came Autumn’s voice in the dark. “Everything stops counting. All the time spent, all the conversations and meals and milestones, they all feel like they mean nothing, or at least mean way less.” Her head lifted. “That guy in the hallway…I could tell he was an old friend. That time I accidentally eavesdropped on you? He said something about knowing things and not understanding the consequences. Your friends in the group…they all knew?”
Blake let his silence serve as a response.
“And that c-word had the nerve to invite you to a party?” Autumn breathed. “I guess we could go. And stab them. And we could get away with it because of everything I know about true crime.”
This time, he just let himself laugh. “I had the right idea binding your hands.”
She waggled her light eyebrows. “Sleep with one eye open, landlord.”
He could almost hear her pondering a more elaborate plan. “Maybe going to the party would be a good thing. We could walk in like Bonnie and Clyde and glare them into dust. They would rue the day they ever crossed Blake Munroe.” She paused. “It’s been a long time. And if your mate is still coming around after a decade, you must have been good friends. Is it maybe, conceivably, perhaps, within the realm of possibility that we could do that?”
There wasn’t a chance in hell he was setting foot in Rockaway, but he couldn’t blame Autumn for trying to help. It was in her nature. “Good night, Fun-Size.”
She sighed. “I’ll take that as a no. Night, Blake.”
It was new, but natural, settling in with Autumn against him. He assumed she must be freezing with the way she wiggled closer and closer, until she covered at least half of him. About twenty minutes was spent covering her with the comforter, then doubling it up, adding his arms around her to keep it in place. Yet, still she burrowed, her feet finding holds between his calves, her hands resting on his chest. Was she even aware of what she was doing? Why couldn’t he stop smiling? Sleeping would be difficult if he couldn’t make his mouth go back to normal.
Finally, she got settled and stopped moving. Just before she drifted off, though, she drew one final smiling hexagon on his chest with her finger, adding a squiggly goatee this time. “Okay, landlord. I’ll show you the routine.”
Turned out, a man could sleep while smiling, because when he woke up it was still there.
CHAPTER 14
Autumn’s gaze was unfocused as she stared at the packed bar. In her mind, Blake was braced over his bedside table, his powerful hand clasped around his cock. He was jerking off to her picture, preparing to spray himself all over it and degrade her image while she watched. Her only choice was to beg for his cock, to be ridden in the closet and take that salty fluid inside herself. God, she could almost feel him bearing down on her again, his thighs hot against hers, his hard flesh pressing against her sopping—
“New love, Isabella. Does anything in the world make straight people look so stupid?”
Autumn snapped out of her daydream and focused on her now smirking colleagues. “Sorry, I was thinking about—”
“Dick?” Owen enquired.
“No!”
“Your landlord’s big bear dick?”
“No!”
Owen nudged Isabella in the ribs. “Look at her, she’s so moist.”
Autumn was going to object when she noticed she was sweating a lot. She wiped a hand across her forehead, collecting the budding droplets. “I hate that word.”
“Everyone does. Everyone except the person who says it with the intent to gross other people out. They can tolerate it.”
“Very wise.” Autumn drained the last of her IPA out of her pint glass. She, Owen and Isabella were having after-shift drinks at a small pub near Happy Paws. It was grungy but laid back and cheap. She was excited Blake was meeting her here, giving her a chance to show him a cool New York location for once. She’d seriously needed to up her game on the date front. By rights, they should have gone on their third and final date ages ago, but Blake was dragging his feet, claiming he was waiting for a special event. Meanwhile, they were hanging out every night at his place or hers, ordering takeout and having sex until their bodies gave out. Frequently, Blake came up with elaborate excuses to take her to tiny Thai restaurants, indie rock gigs and cupcake boutiques after sex. If she really wanted to match him, she’d need to plan a solid month’s worth of dates.
Which might be hard to do once you run out the clock on your visa, Reynolds. Or have you forgotten about that?
She cringed. This morning she’d gone as far as taking the form off the fridge and filling out her name before putting it back up there. What was her fucking problem? Why couldn’t she commit to anything? What would she tell Blake if in a week’s time his new lover was being deported? But it wasn’t like he wasn’t playing games, too, fucking around with their dates and refusing to discuss their future…
“You’re still thinking about him,” Owen said loudly. “I can sympathize, but I must insist you either focus up or say what you’re thinking out loud. I have not heard nearly enough details about your landlord’s body.”
“I told you, he’s hairy and jacked,” Autumn protested. “And he has a bad leg.”
“Three things? Pfft. I could wax poetic about Ryan’s ass for hours.”
“And I would gladly listen, but I don’t have that skill. Anyway…” Autumn looked over her shoulder. “He should be here soon, I don’t want to freak him out.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Owen demanded. He was five beers in and a little punchy. “Do you mean that we’re freaks? That we’re inhospitable?”
“No! It’s just that Blake’s shy and you’re very…”
“Not,” Isabella said, laying a hand over Owen’s. “You guys want another round?”
They all agreed that was an excellent idea. In a flash, Isabella returned with fresh beers. Autumn wasn’t the least bit surprised. Her colleague looked cool and gorgeous in spite of the New York heat and the tattooed bartender practically fell into her cleavage.
“That bar guy definitely wants in,” Autumn said, accepting her pint. “He’s on his phone right now. I bet he’s trying to Tinder you.”
Isabella didn’t bat an eyelid. “I deleted Tinder a month ago. He’ll have to work a lot harder.
”
“God, you’re cool,” Autumn said, too drunk to stop herself. “You don’t say much but when you do it’s like…” she held up a circle made of her thumb and forefinger. “Perfect.”
Isabella laughed, the sound as buttery as her speaking voice. “Thanks. I’m glad you didn’t move home after your break up.”
Autumn sipped her beer, feeling awkward. She didn’t want to lie, but the truth about her visa situation was far too complex to broach on a Friday night. Thankfully, Owen pulled them all into a conversation about the recent subway strike, leaving the subject of her future firmly in ambiguity where it belonged. Twenty minutes later their beers were growing dangerously low again. Autumn was on the verge of getting another round when Owen pointed over her shoulder. “There he is, the conquering beast! Look at him, Isa!”
Autumn turned and saw Blake had indeed arrived. He looked fucking divine in his checkered shirt and jeans and she had to actively work not to let her mouth stretch into the lovesick smile she knew Owen would call her out on. She also stayed in her seat to avoid looking like one of those girls who ditched their mates the instant their dates showed up.
Isabella whipped around to give Blake a once-over, then smiled at her. “Very handsome. You must look great together.”
Autumn was absurdly flattered. “Thanks! Also I love your voice, please talk more.”
Isabella and Owen laughed.
“If you like the way she sounds, you should come to her performance on Sunday.” Owen slung an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “This little Brooklyn baby is gonna be singing her heart out at the Essence Theatre. You got a, what, twenty-minute set this time?”
Isabella nodded her glorious head.
“Congratulations,” Autumn said. “What kind of music do you—”
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