Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
ROXIE WAS RIGHT, friendship was good. It was.
Although her female friend hadn’t sounded so convinced.
Had she missed sarcasm? Was it just placation?
Maybe she’d had other things to do and needed to get on with her day.
That would be no surprise, Roxie had so much going on in her life all the time, it must be difficult to keep track of people.
Major respect that the billionairess hadn’t dropped her simply because she was working out of state.
Breakfast. What did she want for breakfast?
It was the weekend so something nice, indulgent. Maybe there was some of their fresh fruit mousse leftover from dessert last night.
They’d cooked two nights that week. One night each. On the other nights when Bastian called dinnertime, she’d go downstairs to a set table and exquisite food just there, waiting for them.
What about after breakfast?
Maybe in the afternoon she’d use Bastian’s gym in the basement. It was the basement, kind of because it should be below ground level yet it was half glazed to wells of light trapped in the sort of moat around it. Where did rich people get their ideas for architecture from? It was incredible.
Another great thing about working from home?
She could do it in her jammies. After getting up, she’d brushed her teeth and hippity-hopped through to the office to check email.
She could stop in the bedroom and change, but she was only going downstairs to forage, then she’d be back in her seclusion.
And it was the weekend, why shouldn’t she have a slouchy day?
She slid open the kitchen door and stopped. Dead. The room, which should’ve been empty, was not. Three women at the island and four men at the table all landed their focus right on her. Strangers. All of them. Unloading ingredients from boxes, it looked like.
Huh.
Okay.
Not good.
Bastian hadn’t mentioned anything about guests.
The garage door to the kitchen opened and two more women appeared.
Were they having a party? Everyone stared at her in her vest top and boy shorts; she hadn’t so much as run a brush through her hair.
Demanding an explanation wasn’t her purview, this wasn’t her house.
As far as she knew, Bastian was still snoring upstairs.
Did he know the kitchen was full of people?
He could’ve given her a heads up that she’d wake to this.
“Hurry, hurry now, what’s the delay?”
Oh, that was a voice she knew. The women in the doorway shifted and, yep, that was Carolyn Hunt. And, of course, Keely was right there behind her mother. Carolyn’s jaw fell and the quiet of the tense moment was pierced by Keely’s screech.
Keely ran across the room to hug her. “You’re back! You’re back! You’re back!” Keely chanted. “I’m so happy you’re back! Back to having bags of sex with my devoted big brother! You’re back!”
“Uh, excuse me,” Harper managed to say and actually sounded calm.
How had she pulled off the miracle of composure?
She extricated herself from Keely’s embrace and spun on the spot to hurry back the way she’d come.
Picking up the pace, she took the stairs two at a time and ran straight into Bastian’s bedroom, closing the door only to fall against it.
And there he was, sleeping away. How could he be sleeping?
Rushing across the room, she climbed onto the bed to kneel beside him and give him a shake.
“Bastian,” she hissed. “Knight, wake up, please, Bastian.”
“Mm, Sweet,” he mumbled without opening his eyes. “Lie down.”
His arm flopped around her, urging her onto her side. “Bastian.”
He rolled back, pulling her to his chest. “Always what I want to wake up to.”
Despite the growing storm in the kitchen, she laughed at just how tied up an unconscious Bastian could get her. There was nothing funny about the conspicuous lump pressing into her hip. To her shame, she enjoyed feeling it again, even if it was just a morning thing and nothing to do with her.
“Bastian—”
Keely flew into the room with Carolyn behind her. “Separate yourselves for like thirty seconds,” Keely said, rushing to the end of the bed.
Carolyn joined her daughter, and the others from downstairs? Yeah, they were crowded on the threshold, not missing a thing.
This could not get any worse.
Okay, did she have to tempt fate like that? Stupid thoughts.
Bastian’s hand slid under her vest and closed around her naked breast.
Keely laughed while no one else said a word, they were too busy grinning ear-to-ear. Wrestling with his hand could be a show, so she pinched his ribs and snagged his lower lip in her teeth because her other hand was sandwich meat.
He blinked open his eyes. Barely, but, yeah, there was movement, her teeth had done their work.
A lazy smile spread on his face. “Sweet—”
“Ah, stop, don’t say any—we have an audience.”
“An audience?”
He frowned and rolled only pausing when he figured out the location of his hand. Never one to miss an opportunity, he gave her a squeeze before withdrawing.
Bastian absorbed the scene as she sat up. “Why are my family watching us in bed?”
“The Keyes event is tomorrow, sweetheart,” Carolyn said.
Scrubbing his hands over his face and into his hair, Bastian sat up. “I forgot.”
“We see why,” Keely said. “You’re back together! This is great! You can be happy again!”
In vain, Bastian tried to temper expectations. “Keely don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“You’re having sex,” Keely said. “How can you have sex with the woman you love and not be back together?”
And the beauty truly meant that. Oh, boy.
Bastian tried to say something. “Keely—”
“We’re taking it slowly,” Harper said, snatching his hand. “We didn’t expect to be outed so soon.”
“We’ll respect that,” Carolyn said, putting an arm around a smiling Keely. “We’ll leave you alone to get ready and see you downstairs.”
Carolyn herded everyone out and closed the door leaving her and Bastian alone. In bed.
Bastian drew in a long breath. “Good morning.”
As he lay back down, she collapsed with him, burying her face against his chest. “I’m sorry.”
His fingers caught in her hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It’s my fault we’ve been dragged back into this charade.”
“And mine for forgetting the event.”
“I walked into the kitchen dressed like this, I froze.”
“It’s another one of my mom’s charities. Everyone cooks, there are donations. Mom’s remodeling her kitchen. When she asked to do it here, I didn’t have a roommate. I would’ve asked you if—”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me. I shouldn’t have come up here. I panicked.”
“It’s okay.”
The rhythm of his stroking hand calmed her. “It’s not okay,” she said. “We ended our charade so our families wouldn’t be hurt; now we’re back in it.”
“What was the alternative?” he asked. “Do you want to tell them your ex sleazed on you thus forcing you from your family home?”
“No,” she muttered.
“What’s the harm? Hold my hand at dinner, that’s all you have to do.”
“It involved more than that the last time,” she said, finding his eyes.
“I’ll never pressure you.”
Why was her heart beating so fast?
“I know,” she answered. “But you saw how excited Keely was—I don’t want to hurt her.”
“I’ll worry about Keely.”
“I don’t want to disappoint her.”
“Okay, then the only solution is marriage.”
More laughter. In the moment, she pulled the covers down from his chest and spread her hand against him.
“I’d forgotten how incredible you are.”
“A week with me reminded you?”
“Your body,” she said. “Your personality’s no picnic.”
“Feel free to reacquaint yourself with any part of it.”
“So gracious,” she said, kissing his pec before rolling off the bed.
On a yawn, Bastian stretched and ran his hands into his hair as he sat up. “I’ll grab a shower then join you downstairs.”
“I had a day planned.”
Stretching again, he got out of bed and tossed the duvet back, unconcerned about the obvious tent in his underwear.
Hmm, she might be drooling. Stop looking. Stop looking. Every experience she’d had with that particularly proud member replayed in the blink of her mind’s eye. Over and over with a sweet, delectable, mouthwatering—
“Do you want to come with me?” he asked, crossing, arms open, herding her toward his ensuite.
“Bastian,” she said, resting her fingertips on his chest when his hands landed on the bathroom doorframe, penning her in.
She leaned forward, pressing her nose to the center of his chest, inhaling the cozy, comfy, sleepy cocoon that still enveloped him. From her crown, his hand slid to the base of her skull, angling her face up.
“Don’t kiss me,” she whispered.
Vulnerability. Where did that come from? Suddenly, she was a raw, exposed nerve.
“Why not?” he asked, keeping hold of her skull, brushing his other index finger down her temple.
“I can’t do this again,” she murmured in her desperation. “Walking away nearly killed me, Bastian. I know it’s wrong. I shouldn’t—”
“So don’t walk away,” he said. “Stay.”
“If only it was that easy,” she said, touching his dimple before ducking under his arm, liberating herself.
Keep it together. She would get a rein on her horses, she would. This wasn’t them. It was external factors, unforeseen things that they would get past. Somehow. They were friends, and that was how it had to stay. She couldn’t endure another Bastian drought after such a feast, never again.