Was he saying someone had cheated on him? That seemed… insane. Who would screw around if they were sharing a bed with him?
But I’d never shared a bed with anyone romantically so I wasn’t exactly going on any concrete experience. “It’s probably because I’m new. She’s curious.”
“Again, a problem with the women in my life.” He smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant or kind. “Good night, Tiffany. Make yourself at home. I mean that.”
That was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. Home wasn’t a place I ever wanted to return. “Good night, Mr. Gold. Thank you.” I wanted to say something about how I was grateful, I appreciated the opportunity, but every wording I thought up sounded stupid or pathetic or too ass kissing, so I defaulted to silence. You could never say the wrong thing if you said nothing at all.
“I’m not at work. Call me Devin. Please.”
He looked so earnest, I nodded, even though I knew I’d never say it out loud.
If he was leaving the family room, I felt like I should too, so I stood up, forcing Amelia to lift her head. She looked up at me. “What?” I asked the dog. I wasn’t versed in pet communication.
“She’s just waiting for you.” Devin had kicked off his shoes at some point and was standing by the foyer, clearly intending to head up the grand staircase. I knew the master bedroom was upstairs, but since I’d been in the house less than a day, I had yet to see it. His hair was in his eyes and he didn’t bother to push it away, and his expression was neutral, unreadable.
“Where does she think I’m going?”
“To bed.”
“Oh, well, I am.” I took a step, leaning over to flip the lid closed on the doughnut box.
Amelia trotted towards Devin, then stopped and looked back at me.
“My room is this way,” I told her, pointing toward the kitchen. It should have felt stupid having a one-sided conversation with a dog, but it was way easier to talk to her than it was to Devin Gold.
I was afraid if I looked at him, he would read too much on my face. How vulnerable I felt, despite my desperate conviction and desire to be independent.
“She’s expecting us to go to bed together.”
My gaze snapped up from the dog to him, palms instantly sweating. My eyes widened, I couldn’t help it. He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t being suggestive. He was just stating a fact that the dog would expect her master to have a woman with him. It had nothing to do with me.
There must be a lot of women ready and willing to share his bed.
Heat bloomed on my cheeks and I was grateful for the dark room so he couldn’t see my embarrassment. My sudden desire. My awkward reaction.
“I guess she’ll have to choose then. She’ll pick you.” I was confident she would.
So when I started walking in the opposite direction I was surprised to hear toenails clicking on the hardwood floors and dog tags jingling. A glance back showed Amelia crossing the room to me. “Oh!”
He gave me a mocking salute. “I relinquish my traitorous dog to you. Though I do tend to kick her by accident, so I’m sure it’s partly that and partly that she has good taste in companions.”
Before I could absorb the compliment, he added, “She always hated my ex-wife, go figure.”
“Did you kick her too?” It was out before I could stop it.
But Devin gave me a sly smile. “Just to the curb.” Then he retrieved his bag off the floor and sauntered up the stairs, raising his arm in a casual wave. “Good night.”
“Good night.” I fast walked to my room, trembling hands jammed in my pockets.
In my new room I shut the door behind me, locked it, and flicked on the light. Amelia jumped on my bed.
I promptly pulled out my ancient iPad I’d bought for a steal and started seeing what I could find out about Gold Daddy.
And who exactly he had been married to.
Shucking my jeans, I slid beneath the covers, onto crisp, cool sheets. They felt amazing and expensive as they caressed my skin. As I pulled up an image of Devin on my iPad, I spontaneously yanked my tank top over my head and rocked a little under the comforter, sighing at the luxurious sensation of clean and quality sheets next to my near nudity.
“Oh, God,” I breathed, when I saw Devin onscreen dressed in a tux and sunglasses. So damn sexy. So damn rich. It was astonishing to see him there on a gossip news website, leaving the Grammys, a cocky grin on his face, and to know that he was upstairs in bed. Right above me.
Real.
Did he sleep naked? In his underwear? I’d never been so close to either a rich guy or a good-looking guy. It was overwhelming, exciting. I wouldn’t have thought I’d be star struck, and I wasn’t. Not exactly. It was more surreal than anything else. Like before now the world on my computer screen wasn’t real. Those people didn’t exist outside the box of the Internet. Yet they did. He did.
And he liked doughnuts and studied me with an unnerving intensity.
Staring at his smile onscreen, wishing I could see behind the sunglasses, I shifted my legs restlessly. I was turned on, I couldn’t help myself. The sheets were cool, the privacy compelling, the image of the man delicious. Tentatively, I slipped my fingers down between my thighs and stroked myself to a hot, wet arousal. The more I thought about Devin upstairs, the more I relaxed, and let myself enjoy the intimate contours of my body, my underutilized sexual desires clamoring for escape.
Conscious of having Amelia as an audience, I kept the covers up to my chin, my breathing even. I was used to being quiet.
When I came, my eyes were closed and I was imagining him over me, his lips pressing hot kisses on my sensitive flesh. As the tremors of ecstasy slowed, I turned my head to look at him again.
My screen had gone dark.
And suddenly I felt more alone than ever before.
Chapter Three
Fingering the note on the kitchen island, I stared down at Devin’s bold handwriting.
Got called back to NYC. Text me if Amelia is a problem.
He’d left his number then signed it “DG.”
Next to the note was the dog’s leash and instructions on how much to feed her. Behind that was the box of doughnuts with “Finish these” written on the box.
I had come into the kitchen fully dressed, nervous to see him, yet undeniably excited. To find the note was deflating. My first thought was somehow he had known, sensed, that I thought he was hot and it made him uncomfortable. Like somehow he knew that I had been lying in bed, touching myself to thoughts of him. In his house. On his sheets.