“Would.”
“Uh-huh.” I walk ahead of him, unlock the gate and take one flight of stairs up to my apartment. And I only drop my keys twice because of the ferocious way he’s looking at my butt. I also drop them to delay the moment this colossal bounty hunter enters my boho chic living space with his size thirteen steel-toed boots and remembers we’re nothing alike. And leaves. Back to his nomadic, commitment-free life.
“You need some help unlocking the door, Taylor?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
“Your hands are shaking.”
“I’m cold.”
He’s kind not to point out that it’s July and eighty degrees. Finally, I get the door open and he follows me inside, stepping in so I can close the door behind him. There is enough sunlight that I don’t need to turn on any lamps, so I fuss with the thermostat, instead, getting the air flowing. “Taylor.”
“Yes?”
“Look at me.” I do what he asks, watching him set down my suitcase, followed by his duffel bag. Slowly. “This is me inside your door.”
My stupid heart crawls up into my throat. All I can do is nod.
He toes off his boots. Crosses the room to me and takes my hand, leading me into the kitchen. “This is me at your refrigerator.” He raps his knuckles on the appliance and smirks at me. “I’ll be here a lot.” My laughter is winded. He leans down, studies my face closely, then kisses the sound off my mouth very thoroughly. “I’ll cook for you.”
“When you’re here?”
“What do you mean?” he asks patiently, facing me.
Almost like he wants me to ask questions.
“I mean…you’d be on the road a lot,” I say, wetting my lips. “Doing jobs. Didn’t you say they take weeks sometimes? Therefore, you would cook on the infrequent occasions that you are here.”
He hums in his throat. “I see your point. Guess bounty hunting is out.”
I must have misheard him. “Sorry, what?”
“I guess I’m done bounty hunting,” he says, brushing back my hair. “I’m not spending weeks at a time away from you, Taylor. No fucking way. I want to be here. With you.”
“But…”
“But what? You think I’m jumping into this without any thought or preparation?” He props a forearm above my head on the fridge, his free hand playing with the ends of my hair. “Remember the private investigation firm I was planning to open with my brother? We spent the night working on the details. He’s going to run the Boston end. I’m going to find some office space and work from here. We’ll cast a wider net this way. He’s already signed on a few retired detectives who need some action.”
Every inch of my body is buzzing. Goosebumps are springing up everywhere. I’m barely capable of breathing. “You…so you’re actually…”
“Moving here.” He tilts his head. “I thought that was clear.”
“You left out a lot of particulars,” I manage.
“I figured we’d get around to them.” Both of his hands fall to my hips, squeezing them roughly while he makes a sound in his throat. “Show me the rest of your place.”
“Um. Where?”
His lips twitch. “How about the bathroom?”
“Okay.” I slide out from between Myles and the fridge, moving on trembling legs down the hallway to the bathroom, flipping on the light. I gesture for him to step inside and he does—but he pulls me with him. Positions me at the sink, facing the medicine cabinet mirror.
“This is me in your bathroom,” he says into my hair, his fingertips trailing up and down my bare arms. “Can you see us brushing our teeth together here in the mornings?”
I tilt my head consideringly. As if I don’t want to scream yes.
As if I’m not a millisecond from launching myself into his arms and never letting go.
When I don’t answer right away, he leans back a little and strips off his shirt. “How about now? This is more accurate since I sleep naked.”
Brain meltdown. “You do?”
“You will, too, Taylor.” He dips down behind me and comes up flush, his lap to my butt, that hard part of him parting my cheeks through the material of my dress. We both moan, two sets of hands clutching at the edge of the sink. “If we’re going to share a bed—and by if, I mean when—you’ll be too worn out to wear anything but whisker burns and the top sheet.” He elevates me onto my toes, his warm breath puffing onto my neck. “How are you doing visualizing me here now, sweetheart? Starting to seem real yet?”