“I should have you come to my work,” she laughed. “We desperately need shelving in the workroom.”
“Where do you work?”
“It’s a little gift store called Taylor’s. It’s a small shop in midtown, but most of the orders are done online and delivered the next day.”
“And what do you actually do there?” I asked.
Claire looked a bit surprised at my interest. “I pack the individual gifts and gift baskets, then wrap them and put them in these sorts of boxes.” She waved her hand to the pile in the corner of the room. “Obviously I borrowed a selection of them.”
I laughed. “We’re both packers and movers. See? One more thing we have in common.” Her lips pressed together as if lost in thought. “You’re thinking of a question but not asking. I can see it,” I teased.
“I just couldn’t help wondering how much we do have in common,” she nearly whispered.
I pointed to the top of her open box of books. “I have that same psychology book, for starters. I’ve found it really handy for figuring out small talk with people I have nothing in common with.”
Her lovely eyes grew wide. “That’s why I got it. I’m pretty shy, and I have to force myself to chat with people. It’s really hard sometimes.” She grinned. “You seem chatty though. As if it comes easily to you.”
I grinned, trying not to stare at her soft, full lips. “Sometimes I end up moving very rich people, or elderly people, or people with a bunch of kids.” Lowering my voice, I loudly whispered, “The secret with the kids is to give them all names like ‘captain’ and ‘sarge’ then give them little jobs to do.”
Claire giggled so sweetly it was a vision to watch her.
“You should only be with people who make you laugh,” I said, suddenly serious. I hadn’t even realized for a blink that I’d taken her hand. “Claire, I cannot stand the way that asshole spoke to you. You’re a treasure. I hope that you know that.”
She blushed so prettily, turning away slightly, but she gave my hand a firm squeeze before dropping it. I adored that she was shy. Sweetly feminine. Everything I’d ever wanted.
CHAPTER THREE
* Claire *
What the heck was going on? I couldn’t believe that this sweetheart of a hunk was spending the day with me, caring for me, and treating me like a princess.
I knew that I was used to Kyle treating me like trash, but the whiplash from one to the other was a bit much to mentally process. I felt that I should ask Jason to leave so that I could get my bearings, but he looked so luscious sprawled across my living room floor, tightening the screws on my wobbly coffee table.
It felt like there was a screw tightening in my stomach every time I looked at him. He also looked me in the eye more often than he looked at my breasts, which was refreshing.
He was so rough with Kyle, but Jason was nothing but sweet and gentle with me. I couldn’t help wondering how he would touch me. Whether he’d be rough in the bedroom.
At least there might be some passion. Kyle rarely touched me, and when he did, I might as well have been a doll. How sad is it to be in a relationship but still be desperate for human contact?
It was difficult to stop myself from touching Jason. I needed to run my hand through his hair, to stroke his arm while we talked. I didn’t want to lead him on, or have him think that I was that type of girl. I didn’t even know who I was anymore.
A little while later I looked around the apartment and everything was in place. There were some boxes left, but the furniture was all together and arranged and it looked like someone lived here already.
I sat down on the new sofa, and Jason plopped down beside me, giving it a test bounce. “Sturdy and comfortable,” he grinned. I laughed loudly, finally relaxing completely. He flopped back, stretching out his long arms across the backrest, which brought his fingertips to my shoulder. His finger tapped against my t-shirt, then began drawing little circles. I turned a bit more toward him, drawn to him. I didn’t even know what I wanted to happen, just that I needed him to touch me.
I looked up to catch his gaze locked on his hand on my shoulder. Then my lips. The pull I felt toward him was so strong it was almost unnerving.
“I think I need you to throw me out now,” Jason said quietly. His dark eyes locked on mine, and his shoulders seemed tense.
“Actually, I was going to ask you if you wanted to stay for pizza or something. You’ve been helping me all day, I at least owe you dinner.”
He reached up, his rough fingers trailing softly along my neck, just under my ear. “All day I’ve been trying so hard not to touch you,” he said gently. “And watching you finally relax, laughing so sweetly... Honey, I just can’t stop myself anymore. Tell me to leave.”
I laughed again, leaning toward him, feeling like I was melting. “Can’t we just hang out for a bit?” I knew that sounded needier than I intended, but he was so comforting
. I’d never been so open with a guy in my life. There was no way to tell if it was because I was exhausted and rattled, or if it was just him, but I couldn’t stand being alone right now.
His arm slid around me and he pulled my body against his. His chest was so wide, so firm, that my hand began exploring the expanse of muscle without even thinking. He shut his eyes as a shudder ran through him, then when he opened them, he was staring straight at my breasts for a moment before meeting my gaze.