Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Shay
He left me…
I blinked away my tears and stabbed at the elevator button off the lobby, beyond annoyed with myself for being so needy.
Of course he left, Shay.
This is what you wanted, remember?
The issue was that a one-time, fake boyfriend situation wasn’t what I wanted anymore. It wasn’t enough. I needed someone—a certain someone—to stay with me for an indefinite amount of time.
At least until I stop shaking.
Why the hell am I still shaking?
It was a rhetorical question. I was shocked I hadn’t hit the floor already, between my mother being as awful as she always was and seeing the closed casket…
Knowing what I’d find under there.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t…
“Hey, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” a familiar voice soothed as ridiculously muscular arms pulled me against the massive body I’d been eyeing all morning.
Josh.
Thank fuck.
“You left…” I whined pathetically, even as I melted against him, breathing in whatever expensive as fuck cologne he was wearing.
Eau de behemoth vampire.
“I’m sorry, Shay,” he murmured into my hair, pulling me close as if hugging strangers who’d tricked you into an overdramatic funeral was totally normal. “I shouldn’t have done that. Would you like me to go up to your room with you or would you rather come home with me?”
Yes.
“Home…” I slurred into his pecs before gently extracting myself from his arms, desperately attempting to get a hold of myself. “I mean… I’d like to go to your place. Let me just… I just need to grab my things and check out—”
I flushed as I cut myself off, realizing my word vomit was pretty damn presumptuous.
He didn’t ask you to move in with him!
“Sounds good,” Josh calmly replied, instantly setting my anxiety at ease. “How about you head up and collect your things while I check out for you. Room number?”
“506,” I breathed, beyond thankful he was just telling me what to do. “I’ll be quick.”
He shook his head with a grin, distracting me with those sharp teeth again. “Take as long as you need. I paid the cab to wait outside, so we’re ready when you are. Anything you need, remember?”
Sir, I may need you to nibble on me…
Before I could do something stupid—like invite him up to take a bite—the elevator arrived. Josh was already striding toward the front desk as the doors closed, and I drunkenly slumped against the back wall as the car jolted into motion.
Am I dreaming…?
The idea that I wasn’t burdening this man with my existence was more than my foggy brain could handle at the moment, but by the time I stepped onto the fifth floor and entered my room, a strange sense of calm had washed over me.
Josh is here.
He’s ready when you are.
Just collect your shit and go home with him.
Anything you need…
Thanks to the way he’d taken charge of the larger situation, I was able to focus on my one task enough to get packed up and back downstairs in no time.
I stepped off the elevator and briefly panicked when I didn’t immediately see my savior, but then I spotted him outside, leaning against the cab and chatting with the driver as if they were old friends.
Who is this guy?
I froze mid-step, realizing I didn’t actually know much about the man I was about to go home with.
Then Google him, Shay.
Like a normal stalker.
Before he could come looking for me I quickly searched for “Josh local painter dead people” and almost fumbled my phone when the first article that came up was a front-page article, above the fold, in the Times’s Sunday Arts section.
Oh.
So that’s who he is.
Everything he’d told me so far checked out.
Joshua Taylor, thirty-one, lost his parents in a car accident when he was eight years old.
Growing up in his great-aunt’s funeral home gave him a unique understanding of death, and when given the opportunity to combine this learned empathy with his natural artistic talents, he felt it was his calling in life to help others find peace.
So… he’s Dead People Painter Jesus.
As someone who’d found my niche on social media, I could appreciate the viral appeal of someone like Josh, but he clearly didn’t do it for the fame.
He doesn’t even have an Instagram account!
I glanced up to see Josh walking toward the tinted lobby doors, so I quickly scanned the article for more intel. My gaze snagged on a truly stunning painting of an older woman looking ethereally peaceful in death before landing on something even more jaw-dropping.
His net worth.
Good lord…
It was the kind of number you saw attached to tech company CEOs with private jets or trust fund babies, not supernaturally calming giants who randomly answered desperate plus-one ads on H2H.
What the hell is he doing wasting his time with me?
“Everything all right, Shay?”
I gasped, realizing too late the big guy had snuck up on me. A little white lie was on the tip of my tongue, but his gaze had already dropped to my phone, and the damning evidence on the screen.
Might as well ruin things all the way.
“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t a serial killer!” I blurted out, which was the truth, now that I thought about it.
So there.
Josh tossed his head back and laughed with an unfiltered joy that was very on-brand from what I’d seen.
Maybe he’ll rub off on me…
“That’s good.” He smiled affectionately. “I wouldn’t want you to go home with just anyone.”
“Just you, huh?” I replied, apparently no longer having any control over my mouth.
His smile faded, impossibly dark eyes darkening further as he opened his mouth before snapping it closed again.
C’mon… just admit you feel this too.
“Yeah…” he noncommittally replied, clearing his throat and snatching my bags before spinning on his heel and heading for the door. “Let’s get going so you can settle in.”
Holy mixed signals, Batman.
I obediently followed, reminding myself I wasn’t one to talk. I’d made it clear from the start that whoever answered my ad shouldn’t get the wrong idea about this arrangement.
But now I want him to…
Just him.
It wasn’t only because of his behemoth vampire good looks, or his apparently obscene amount of wealth. Josh gave me something I hadn’t realized I’d been missing until we met—things my own family had never provided.
Security.
Support.
Safety.
The more rational part of my brain tried to point out the emotionally vulnerable state I was in—that I was probably imprinting on this poor man like a lost kitten—but I didn’t care. I wanted to believe we had a chance, and I would do everything in my power to make it happen.
Assuming he’s interested…
What if he’s not?
I was so lost in my thoughts, I barely registered Josh getting me into the cab.
Before he could buckle me in—as we all know he would have—the car abruptly pulled into traffic, causing me to pitch forward.
Of course, I didn’t face-plant against the partition because Josh had already wrapped an arm around my body and pulled me closer.
He’s totally interested.
“Easy, shortstack,” he muttered, smiling down at me, his glorious hair tickling my face. “I need you to arrive in one piece.”
Oh?
So you can take me apart all on your own?
This time, I allowed Rational Shay to shut down my thirst. The last time I’d allowed my desires to call the shots, I’d embarrassed myself, and the memory of that night—of everything that had happened that night—still haunted me.
“How long were you planning to stay in the city?” Josh casually asked.
Too casually.
Does he want me to stay longer?
When my hottie caught me studying him like a restaurant menu, he clarified, “You have more luggage than I was expecting from someone just in town for a funeral.”
Sigh.
“I was actually in town for a competition last week,” I answered stiffly. “My sister was the only one who knew I was here, but we hadn’t managed to make plans before…”
Before…
He squeezed me against him, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to cuddle up with his muscles and cry or ride his no-doubt massive cock.
Why not both?
The cab stopped short at a red light, snapping me out of my horny thoughts. “But anyway…” I continued, stubbornly refocusing on business. “I have classes on the schedule, and I need to—”
“Why would you not cancel classes for a death in the family?” Josh’s brows knitted together—his handsome face the perfect specimen of privileged confusion. “Your students would understand.”
“Because I have bills to pay, moneybags!” I laughed, playfully pushing away from him before I got too comfortable. “Not everyone can turn down triple their rate, sheesh.”
Josh blushed, looking exactly as flustered as he had when Mr. Francesco brought it up. “Have you ever thought of teaching virtually?” he redirected. “Then you could do it from anywhere.”
Oh, you sweet summer child.
“What about the pole, Josh?” I purred, unable to resist scooting closer again, like a silly little magnet. “You got a pole I can borrow?”
The bigger the better.
My innuendo landed as his blush deepened but, again, he didn’t take the bait. “Behave. The first thing you need to do is eat. You were shaking when I found you.”
I deflated, realizing this perfect man was really just a nice guy who wanted to help someone in need.
“Yeah, okay,” I mumbled, averting my gaze. “Whatever you say.”
“Good boy,” he murmured, cupping my face in his enormous hand, forcing me to look at him. “You like being good for me, huh?”
Lord. Have. Mercy.
He’d called me a good boy when I ate my flapjacks earlier, but I’d thought it was just an offhand comment. With the way he was looking at me now—gaze searing into my soul as he rhythmically brushed his thumb over my cheek—I realized he knew exactly what he was doing.
And I am here for it.
“Yes,” I breathed, vision going hazy as my body went limp and my dick officially joined the conversation. “I could be so good for you.”
Jesus… get a hold of yourself, Shay.
Josh looked like he was going to say more, but then the cab driver broke the spell.
“We’re here, boss. Want me to wait outside again?”
“No thank you,” Josh replied, blasting him with a too-sharp smile I was instantly jealous of. “This is home.”
Home.
I looked up as I stepped onto the sidewalk, gasping to realize I recognized the building from an 80s movie about four middle-aged men catching ghosts.
By the time I looked around at street level, the cab was gone and Josh was handing my luggage, his Opal Creek bags, and a crisp fifty to a uniformed guy who was obviously the building’s doorman.
I am way out of my league here.
All of a sudden, I was extremely aware of the Pleaser heels and competition clothing in my carry on, but the likelihood of Josh seeing any of it was slim.
I’m sure he’ll stick me in seclusion in the west wing and forget I exist.
“All right, shortstack.” Josh dwarfed my hand with his, immediately making the nickname acceptable. “Let’s get you fed.”
Feed me your dick.
“More breakfast food?” I teased as he led me around the corner with purpose, clearly taking me to one of his regular spots.
“Nope.” He laughed again—my absolute favorite sound. “Steak… unless you’re a vegetarian?”
“Nope,” I popped the p and grinned up at him. “I might keep it light tonight, but normally there’s nothing I love more than being stuffed with thick meat.”
Hint fucking hint.
He blushed again but huffed a laugh. “Stop flirting. Food first.”
“Yes, sir,” I cooed, just to make him blush harder.
Josh didn’t reply, but the secretive smile on his face told me that, yes, he knew exactly what he was doing.