7. Nina #2
Before she can say anything more, I blurt out, “Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” I pull out the muted green tile with a blooming flower painted on it.
It’s one of the treasures I found in the thrift shop today.
“I thought you could use it as a coaster.” Rose loves flowers, and she likes to play up the irony in that.
She takes the tile in her hand and runs a thumb over the blossom. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”
I get up and kiss her cheek. “I need to get going, but I’ll stop by in a few days?”
She nods and then gives me a gentle, knowing look. “You’re capable of more than you know, and I hope one day you’ll see yourself as the amazing woman you are.”
“Now that sounds like a horoscope.” I try to joke, to brush off the words, but it falls flat.
“Nope,” she says softly, “this one is all me.”
I swallow hard and paste a smile onto my face, hiding the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry.
It’s been two weeks since Evren moved in, and I hate that I look forward to seeing him.
It’s stupid, really. I’m not supposed to care.
But this morning, I found a handwritten note tucked inside my cereal box asking if I was reconsidering the franchising deal.
Without thinking, I wrote back saying I’d only accept that when the apocalypse starts and left it by the stove.
When he saw it, he chuckled . Not one of his usual half-huffs or those barely there smiles. No, this was something deeper, warmer, real. And I hate how much it stirred something inside me. Hate how he casually folded the note and tucked it into his suit jacket like it was something worth keeping.
I hate that I like waking up early just to have coffee and cereal with him, even though I like my sleep.
But here I am, not only knowing his routine by heart, but taking part in it.
After our morning coffee, he heads straight to work.
Sometimes he’s back by seven, but more often than not, it’s closer to eight.
And for that hour in between, I find myself lingering in the kitchen, pretending I’m not waiting for him.
I glare at the clock as the minutes tick by, each one making me more angry than the last. He hasn’t been late once since we started this little routine, so what the hell is keeping him tonight?
A knot tightens in my chest, and I shove it down, refusing to admit what it means.
It’s not like I care if he’s late. It’s not like I’m expecting a message. No, that’d be ridiculous.
But what’s not so ridiculous is this worry that I’m somehow, suddenly, not important enough for him to be on time. My hands clench, the simmering frustration quickly turning into something sharper.
A wicked idea forms in my mind, and a slow smirk tugs at my lips. Tonight, I’ll interrupt his sauna time. Tonight, I’m going to find out what’s so amazing about sitting in a hot box—and make sure he doesn’t forget about me again.
Changing into my bathing suit, I wait for Evren to have his nightly swim. There’s this need inside me to disrupt his perfect control. If I’m being thrown off by him, it’s only fair he feels the same.
I just don’t know what to do with myself to pass the time while I wait. My sewing machine calls to me, but every time I sit down to design anything except something related to Evren’s logo, I draw a blank.
At ten thirty, there’s a splash in the pool.
Finally.
I part the curtains and watch him. He normally swims for thirty minutes, so I wait until minute twenty-nine before heading out to the pool. The second he notices me, he stops swimming and stares as if he doesn’t believe I’m really here .
“Hey,” he says, using the ledge to pull himself out of the pool. The strength, the power, to do that move so easily is hot. He wraps a towel around his waist and stands right in front of me. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You never come out here at night.”
“Looks like I’m not the only one changing up my routine tonight,” I say, ignoring how much I like the idea that he might be taking note of my schedule, too.
He lifts an eyebrow. “You noticed?”
“We’re roommates. Unfortunately, it’s hard not to notice.”
“I like that you’re keeping tabs on me,” he says, his voice low, a hint of amusement curling around the words. “My last meeting ran over. That’s why I wasn’t home at the usual time.”
“Good for you,” I snap, stepping to the side, but he mirrors my movement, effortlessly blocking my path.
“Move,” I grit out, irritation sparking through me. “I’m using the sauna tonight.”
“Really?” he drawls slowly, as if not believing me. “Because I was also going to use it now…” His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate, like he’s taking in every inch of me and making sure I notice.
Oh, I notice all right. How could I not?
“Well,” I say, “it looks like you’re going to have to wait.”
“Or…we could just use it together.”
“We could, but we won’t be doing anything together. ”
He chuckles, actually fucking chuckles, low and deep, reminding me of silk sheets against naked skin. The thought of him, us, in bed sends a shiver down my spine.
“Did you know”—he takes a step closer to me—“that saunas are only allowed to be used while nude.”
I scoff, not believing him one bit. He couldn’t have been naked inside that thing the entire time, right? “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. Bathing suits are unsanitary and are the perfect breeding ground for bacteria.”
“What’s unsanitary is rubbing your bare ass all over the wood.”
He grins, like I’m being cute. “You’re supposed to use a towel underneath said ass.”
Shit, I didn’t bring a towel out with me.
If I turn back now, I’ll lose the opportunity to interfere with his schedule.
So, I do the only thing I can, and tug at the towel at his waist, my fingers brushing against his abdomen.
Abs that are far more defined than humanly possible.
Abs that clench when I touch him. I rip my hand away from his skin, towel still clutched in my fingers, and spin around, needing to put some distance between us.
He’s silent a beat before laughing. I freeze and look over my shoulder, not wanting to miss hearing it for the first time.
It’s not just a huff or a chuckle, but a real, full laugh.
The type where his shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle at the corners while a grin lights up his stupidly handsome face. “You’re something else, Nina Martin. ”
I ignore his comment, and what it does to me, and say, “I’ll be out in ten minutes.”
But ten minutes in this hellish box is far too much for me to handle.
Who sweats just to sweat? I don’t get it.
It’s uncomfortable, stifling, annoying and I curse his name with every second that passes while I drip sweat onto his towel.
When I can’t take it anymore, eight minutes later, I burst out of the door with my bathing suit in hand and his towel wrapped around me.
Sucking in a breath of cool air, I dab at my overheated cheeks and twist my hair up, but I don’t have a hair tie on my wrist to secure it, so it unravels a second later.
Note to self: bring one next time. If there’s a next time, because one time might be enough.
“Did you like it?” Evren says.
I spin around, shocked he’s still there. He’s still in his bathing suit, fresh water droplets clinging to his skin as if he swam some more while I was in the sauna.
“Yes,” I lie, “it was very relaxing.”
“Hmm.” He takes a step toward me and lifts his hand toward my cheek, but then freezes when he’s a few inches away from touching me.
His hand hovers in the air, and I suck in a breath, waiting to see what he’ll do.
I hate how much I want to take a step toward him, to close the distance between us, to feel his fingers on my skin.
I raise an eyebrow, challenging him to touch me. I can’t help it. The urge to push him is too strong to resist. He’s not my type, so much so that I think about him nonstop. Every interaction we have is a surprise, and I’m curious to see what he’s going to do next.
He moves his hand toward my face and runs his knuckles across my left cheek. “You stayed in too long.”
I lean into his gentle touch, liking it more than I care to admit before snapping myself out of it. This isn’t a good idea. For too many reasons. The least of which is that we’re roommates.
“Do you want your towel back?” I ask, taking a step away from him.
“And if I said yes?”
Then I’d be naked in front of him. A wave of insecurity washes over me at that thought.
I’m normally not one to be uncomfortable in my body, it’s something I flaunt with my clothes.
But…I’m not thin by any means, and I’m definitely not the type of woman billionaires go after.
I’m just the midsized girl who has hips and tits and a soft stomach.
Determined not to let Evren freaking Kaya make me feel insecure, I unwrap the towel and lift my chin in the air. Taking a deep breath, I look him straight in the eye. I expect him to shy away or fidget uncomfortably.
But instead, he greedily peruses my body. Every part of me his gaze touches causes heat to scorch a path across my skin. My nipples pebble as if begging for him to put them in his mouth and he zeroes in on them.
My legs shake when I take a step toward him, closing the distance between us.
I’m determined to give him this towel and be on my way.
But the longer he silently stares at me, the more turned on I get.
Shit, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. No, scratch that, this was a horrible idea. What the hell was I thinking?
I hold out the towel for him to take.
“Sorry it’s a bit wet.” I say it like I’m a phone-sex worker and mean something else entirely. Where the hell did that voice come from?
His gaze snaps to mine and he takes the towel from my hand. “I’ll be sure to add to it.”
Holy shit. D…does he mean he’s going to jerk off in the sauna? Because if so, why is the thought of him doing that so hot, and more importantly, why do I have the feeling Evren would be vocal in bed?
“You do that,” I say, trying to act unaffected, but I’m doing a shit job at it. I need to get back to the pool house ASAP and cool down, or else I may end up doing something I’ll regret, like accidentally fall on his dick. “Let me know if you need a hand.”
I spin around and force myself to walk slowly, leisurely, back to the pool house. The entire way, I feel Evren’s gaze burn into my skin.
What the hell am I doing playing with fire and flirting with Evren?
And why is it so much fun?