Okay, at this point I have zero good excuses for not saying something to stop him since he’s still obviously not quite conscious. And instead of doing the one thing I should, I arch and press my butt against his erection. It nestles all snug along the cleft of my ass—my underwear are clearly barring the way, although they’re not full coverage, so I can feel a lot of skin on skin. With a final, rough nipple twist he abandons my breast and his palm moves heavily down my stomach.

My eyes go wide as I realize he has a destination in mind. I would like to say my next action is a result of my acknowledging that this has gone too far. However, it has more to do with the fact that I think I need to shave my nether regions. I grab his hand just as it passes my navel. “Whoa!” I rasp-yell.

That seems to startle him out of whatever semi-sleep-induced lust-haze he’s in. His hand retracts and he rolls over as I jump out of the bed.

And that’s when I realize I’m not in my bedroom. I’m in his.

“I just—I didn’t—I made—” I’m flailing around like an idiot as a very sleep-bleary Bancroft blinks at me with confusion. God he’s sexy when he’s just woken up. My eyes follow his hand, which is smoothing down his stomach. And that’s when I take note that the sheets have abandoned his glorious body. He’s so naked. And I can see every inch of him. Well, apart from his right thigh.

Bancroft shirtless is a vision. Bancroft naked is damn well fucking phenomenal.

“Oh God, that is huge!” I say when I finally reach the visual destination of Erectiontopia.

It’s not completely dark in here, thanks to the night owls of the city who are awake in the buildings across the street. I can see very clearly how ample his erection truly is. And I’m definitely gawking. In my defense, there’s quite a lot to gawk at. My mouth is actually watering, it looks that amazing.

Prior to this moment I’ve never really been all that impressed with a penis. If there were a penis rating system, Bancroft’s would be in a class all its own. Now part of this may be due to the amazing shadows cast over his naked body by the ambient lighting. It may in part be due to the entire package framing the penis I’m currently staring at.

I scan his naked body, wishing like hell for a photographic memory, because his body is a gift from the heavens. And that erection is magnificent.

On a scale of one to ten, with one being depressingly inadequate and ten being deity inspiring, his dick is so beautiful it would make angels weep and virgins offer themselves up for sacrifice. Okay, maybe not that last part. But it’s a gorgeous penis and I’m really, really turned on.

Now I want to get back under those sheets with him and pretend I didn’t just accidentally crawl into his bed and let him feel me up, for quite a lengthy amount of time.

“Ruby?” He pulls a sheet up to cover his junk. “What’re you—” He looks me over. His hand is resting on his erection. Cradling it. That could’ve been me if I’d been smart enough to keep up the ruse.

I try to cover myself, because my choice of sleep outfit doesn’t leave all that much to the imagination. Well, more than Bane’s obviously, but it’s still pretty skimpy.

“It was an accident! Sorry!” I spin around and sprint to the door, slamming it behind me. I run all the way down the hall to my bedroom, being much more careful about closing the door this time. And of course, I lock it. My embarrassment is so huge—bigger even than the cock I was just staring at—and there is no way I can face Bane right now.

Chapter 16: Hard to Control Hard-Ons

BANCROFT

I’m lying in my bed, staring at my closed door with my hard-on in my hand, wondering what the hell just happened.

Well, I know what just happened, but the question is why was Ruby in my bed and why isn’t she in it anymore? Both myself and my erection, who I feel is an independent, although very linear thinker, would like an answer to this question.

I consider getting up and going to see if she’s okay, but I’m still achingly hard, so I can’t go anywhere right now. Also, based on her rushed exit and her inability to speak in coherent sentences, she seems pretty damn embarrassed about the entire thing. I suppose I can wait until morning, which is only two hours away anyway, and we can deal with it then.

As I lie here, filtering through the foggy event that has just transpired, I consider how much of it was related to my dream and how much was real. Mostly all I recall is some boob grabbing and nipple tweaking, and some cock-to-ass rubbing. I would like to do more of all of those things with her while conscious.

After five more minutes of lying in my bed, thinking about Ruby, I give up on her magically reappearing at my door and rub one out. Alone. This time I have some real-ish fodder to help me reach the end. The only thing that would be better is if it was the lovely Ruby helping me out, instead of me doing it on my own.

Usually orgasms are a decent sedative, but it doesn’t work the way I’d like it to. I can’t seem to fall back asleep and ninety minutes later my alarm goes off. I pull on a pair of boxers and shorts before I leave my room—something I’m going to have to get used to doing with Ruby living here. At least until we get past this whole awkward reintroduction phase. When I woke up with my hand almost in her panties I figured we were about to resolve the issue, but then she bolted.

I put coffee on and riffle through the contents of the fridge. It needs to be stocked; pickings are fairly slim. I didn’t even think to check the contents before I went to the office yesterday afternoon.

How my arrival was received and my expectations are not at all in line with each other. In my head, Ruby greeted me at the door with high enthusiasm and little in the way of clothing. I got the little in the way of clothing part, but the enthusiasm was replaced with awkwardness. And I hadn’t taken into account that she’d have to work, and definitely not for the next four days.

Instead of sitting around in my condo feeling sorry for myself, I went to work. It helped keep my mind occupied. And it gave me a leg up on Lex, who didn’t show up until four hours after I did. By that time, I’d already gone through spreadsheets, marketing plans, and development costs with my father. He’d seemed impressed by my dedication to the team and the projects. Having just got off a plane a few hours earlier, he’d fully expected me to take the day. And I would’ve, if Ruby had been home.

I survey the contents of the fridge, deciding what I’d like to make for breakfast. I have the necessary ingredients for pancakes. I’ve gotten used to starting or ending my day with Ruby, and I’d like it to continue.

Once the coffee is made I knock on her door. I’m met with silence. I try again, the odd knot forming in my stomach gets tighter. “Ruby,” I call out when the second knock produces more silence.

I try the knob, but it’s locked. Shit. Did she think I was going to try and get back into bed with her last night? Was this preventative, or born out of embarrassment?

I’ve talked to her almost every single day since I left, apart from a handful of travel days. There’s been an extensive amount of sexual innuendo in those conversations. In a lot of ways, it’s felt like long-distance dating. I’ve had weeks to get to know Ruby, weeks to appreciate her sense of humor. Time to get to know her mannerisms. Time to discover what makes her tick, what her insecurities are, how strong she is, how much she loves my pets, how much I appreciate her choice of bedwear.