“And Owen?”
“He’s a thinker that one. He’s not one to make a rash decision, and when he does make a decision, it’s absolute.”
He nods. “Four for four.”
“And you.” I pretend to be thinking when I already know what I’m going to say. “You have so many layers. You have the weight of the world on your shoulders, and that makes you broody. But when you let yourself relax, you become sweet and playful. Both of which I adore,” I say, the wine taking over my mouth, apparently.
“You’re not wrong about the weight, but it’s not the world, just Riggins Enterprises.”
“The guy on the plane, he’s with me right now, and I’ve missed him.” Might as well go ahead and toss it all out there.
“I’m the same man.”
I shake my head and point at him. “Layers. So many layers.”
“You were… refreshing.” He gives me a grin. “You didn’t know me for my money, or the business, I don’t get that often. In fact, it’s been way too long since that’s happened.”
“That’s why you were nice to me?”
“No. Not at first. I felt bad for you. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I knew I couldn’t have you freaking out next to me.”
“Thank you for that. You helped me so much.” He nods. “And tonight. It looks like I need to add savior to the list.”
“Just yours,” he says softly.
“Royce.” His name from my lips is just as soft. His eyes bore into mine, and I wish I knew what he was thinking. Does he want to kiss me? Is he annoyed that he had to save me again? Annoyed that his employee is in his home, in his personal space?
“Your eyes… they’re mesmerizing.” He leans in to get a closer look. I find myself leaning in as well. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. Reaching out, his hand sweeps my bangs away from my eyes.
Any buzz I had is gone, replaced by the thickness of attraction layering between us. “Th-Thank you.” I manage to force the words. My mouth is dry, and my panties are wet. He moves to frame my cheek in the palm of his hand. I lean into his warmth, wishing I could feel it, feel him everywhere.
“I should get you some clothes,” he says, his voice raspy and thick.
Does he feel this? He has to, right? “Yeah.” I nod. “Clothes.” Should I take mine off here? “That would be nice. Thank you,” I say instead.
“Follow me.” He stands from his place on the couch and holds his hand out for me.
Not only does the warmth of his hand envelope mine, but his thumb… he’s driving me crazy as he traces it over mine. Is he trying to drive me wild for him?
“This is my room,” he explains huskily. Without letting go of my hand, he leads me to his dresser, where he pulls out a pair of sweats and a T-shirt.
Glancing down at our hands, his are covered in ink, and mine clear of design, there is such a contrast between the two, but I don’t hate it. In fact, I’d be okay if he never let go. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Has to be the wine. No more drinking for me for a while.
“Sawyer.” My eyes snap to his. “You okay?”
I nod. “Thank you for the clothes.” I reach the hand that’s not locked with his out toward him.
“You tired?” he asks.
“Not anymore.”
“Watch a movie with me?”
I nod. “Where can I change?”
“Here.” He’s quick to say. “You can change here. I’ll show you to the room you’re going to be sleeping in later.”
“Thank you.”
He gives my hand a soft squeeze. “I’ll be in the living room.” He’s reluctant to let go, and so am I. He finally releases my hand and disappears into the hallway, leaving me alone in his bedroom.
I glance at the huge bed with longing. I’m sure it’s comfortable. The thing is massive, with its dark gray and black comforter. It looks enticing. What would it feel like to fall asleep with those inked arms wrapped around me and to wake up the same way? Realizing I’m just standing in the middle of his room fantasizing about his bed, and the two of us in it, I strip out of my jeans and blouse and slip into his sweats and T-shirt. I want to take my bra off, but I decide it’s best to keep it on for now. Just a few more hours, and I can set the girls free.
Folding my discarded clothes, I place them neatly in the chair in the corner of the room. When I open the bedroom door, I’m startled to find Royce standing there, back against the wall, strong tattooed arms crossed over his chest.
Without a word, he uncrosses his arms and holds his hand out for me. Together, hand in hand, we make our way back to the living room. He sits on the couch and pulls me down next to him. Neither one of us says a word as he hits Play on the remote. Clint Eastwood fills the screen and I smile. With his hand still linked with mine, we watch the movie in silence. The warmth of his body pressed next to mine is arousing and soothing at the same time. Soothing wins out as I rest my head on his shoulder. Royce wrapping his arm around me is the last thing I remember.