When we reach the Franklin bungalow, Pierce pauses. “Do you mind if we stop here for a minute?”

“Sure. Are the renos coming along okay?”

Pierce nods, his face lighting up with his smile. “We’re making good progress.”

The smell of fresh paint and new finishes are sharp in the air as he opens the door and ushers me inside.

“Are you doing most of this yourself again?” It’s a lot of work in a short span of time.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, regarding the space with a critical eye. “Since the goal is to rent and not flip, it doesn’t make sense to put the same amount of time and energy into the project. We want to get it on the rental market as quickly as possible.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that.”

He lifts a shoulder. “We could’ve gotten top dollar with higher-grade finishes if the point was resale. This is like half-assed cosmetics. It’s not economical to go high end if we’re renting. Things are going to get damaged no matter how good the renters are. Plus, I’m committed to having pet friendly rentals, so I have to take that into account with the finishes.”

“Makes sense. Does that bother you?”

He runs his hand across the counter. It’s granite, so he certainly hasn’t cheaped out there. “I’m not big on half assing.”

Flashes of how not half assed he was when we last had sex have my stomach and thighs clenching. “No. You certainly aren’t.”

One corner of my mouth turns up and his eyes heat. “I’m not sure you’re referencing my carpentry skills anymore.”

I mirror his smile. “It was sort of an all-encompassing statement.”

He steps over Trip, who’s plunked himself down on the floor at his feet. I have a moment of panicked conflict. The intimacy that comes with his honesty pushes at the boundaries I keep in place. The chemistry between us is ever present and undeniable, but this emotional connection scares me because it’s only a matter of time before I can no longer keep them separate from each other.

His rough, callused fingertips glide gently up my arm. I shiver and my skin breaks out in a wave of goose bumps. I can handle this, the physical need. I can focus on this. He drops his head, lips close to mine. I don’t dare move, already aware of how much joy he seems to derive from tormenting me. “I’m so glad you stopped fighting this.”

“Fighting what?”

“Us.” The tip of his nose brushes mine. “I want in you.”

Panic flares at the possibility that he means it beyond the literal.

I slip my hands under his shirt, fingers gliding over bare skin as I lift my head. It’s too late to stop this. Whatever the consequences, I’m already in this so much deeper than I mean to be, but I can’t seem to walk away, even if it’s the safer option.

Pierce’s lips find mine, and my worries get lost in the spark of desire.

CHAPTER 21

ALTERNATE LOCATIONS

PIERCE

Rian’s tucked into my side, her head resting on my chest. She’s a limp noodle. I managed to move us from the living room floor to the bedroom before we really got going.

“Well, that was something,” she mumbles. It’s half slurred, like she’s drunk on orgasms.

“Fun, huh?”

She snorts. “Intense is more like it.”

She’s silent for a minute and I close my eyes, relaxed and content to lie here and bask in the afterglow.

She lifts her head off my chest. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” I’m groggy post-sex and prone to drifting off when I’m in this kind of Zen state.

“Oh shit. That’s my phone. How long have we been here?” She looks around for a clock, but I haven’t put one in here yet. It’s on my to-do list. I need to go shopping later this week. Maybe Rian and I can go together.

She tries to push up, but I tighten my arms around her, unwilling to let her go.

“I need to get that. Marley and I were supposed to go for lunch, and I’m not sure if she’s still expecting me.”

“Guess you’ll have to tell her we’ve already eaten.”

“Haha. Vagina is not a meal.” She pinches my nipple. “Let me up. I need to call her.”

“To tell her you’re sorry, but you won’t be home until tomorrow.” I arch a brow.

“Yes.”

“Okay. You can call her.” I unbar my arms.

She laughs, a little incredulous, but mostly amused. “I wasn’t asking.”

She slides over my body, her face still mashed into my chest as her feet hit the floor. I grin as she pushes to an awkward stand. She stumble-walks across the room and has to use the wall to steady herself.

“You all right? You need help with the walking?”

She flips me the bird over her shoulder and disappears into the hall. Naked. There are a million things I should do this afternoon, but Rian has moved to number one on my list.

I can hear her talking in low whispers to her sister. She laughs at something. “I’ll be home in the morning. Not early. You’ll survive boot camp without me.”

She ends the call as she appears in the doorway. She saunters across the room, soft breasts bouncing and hips swaying.

She tosses my phone on the bed. “Your brother called while I was talking to Marley. Not sure if you care to respond or not.”

I check the alerts. He’s called three times and there are eleven messages. It’s already four in the afternoon. I move my phone to the nightstand. “He needs to unknot his balls first. Besides, I’m going to be busy until tomorrow.” I pat the mattress. “What do you feel like for dinner since we missed lunch?”

Rian climbs up on the bed and straddles my thighs.

“We should do delivery.” She drops something on my chest, between my pecs. “Look what I found.”

I glance down. It’s an extra condom. I snatch it up. “Where’d you find this?”

“On the floor.”

I roll her over and fit myself between her thighs. “First, we use this, then we order dinner.”

“We should do Post Mates. I bet they’d make a stop at the pharmacy and pick up a box of condoms.”

“You’re a smart woman, Rian.”

“Only sometimes.”

“All the time.” I kiss her neck.

“I’m a little stupid over you,” she whispers.

“Same.” I roll my hips and whatever worries she might have about that disappear on a moan.

* * *

I order Italian, a box of condoms, and a bottle of wine. I specify the brand and type—of condoms, that is. Rian is wearing my shirt and I’m in my shorts. We’re sitting on the couch in the living room, working our way into a carb coma with takeout containers of pasta in our respective laps.

My phone lights up with yet another call from my brother.

“Should you get that?” Rian asks.

“No. He’s being an asshole and completely irrational.”

“Why is he so upset about the house?”

“Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine. He gets like this sometimes. Obsesses over things. He’ll have ideas, and then when it doesn’t go exactly as he plans, he gets pissed. Don’t worry, he’ll get over it.”

“I’m not worried for me. I don’t want this to cause issues between you and your family. It’s obvious you’re close.” She spins noodles on her plastic fork, her focus staying there. I make a note to bring over some real silverware and dishes so next time we can eat like civilized human beings. Not that I mind this. It’s refreshing not to sit at a dinner table with seventeen different utensils to choose from.