Girl Crush(69)
“I hoped it wouldn’t, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect you to embrace it. Not because I thought you were after it, but money just makes life easier.”
“I don’t need a man to take care of me financially. I know I don’t make a ton, and by your standards I’m poor, but I have everything I want except someone to come home to. And before I met you—hell, even after—I didn’t think I wanted that. All the money in the world won’t buy loyalty.”
Collier grabbed my wrist and rolled me on top of him. His hands held my waist, and I could feel every inch of him pressed against me. It was hard to remain focused on the topic at hand when all I wanted him to do was take me. Losing myself in his touch was far more appealing than telling him how much I disliked his mansion.
“I don’t care about the house, Giselle. If you don’t want to live here, we don’t have to. If you want to stay at your place, we can do that as well. If you want to sell both houses and buy another one, I don’t care. I just don’t want to wake up another morning without you by my side.”
The conversation had gotten too heavy, and I was a lightweight. “When did you become such a sap? The next thing I know you’re going to want to carve our initials into a tree in the front yard.”
I squealed when he dug his fingers into my sides and tickled me. “You think this is a joke, huh?” I loved seeing him so playful. Brutus was nowhere to be found; the only man here was the West I loved.
“I’m not letting you go home alone. Plain and simple. You can make the choice as to where we go, but whatever we do, we do it together from here on out.”
“Okay, lover boy. Then I’d say pack a bag.”
When I tried to get up, he showed me who was in charge…and it wasn’t me. This commanding side of West made me swoon. He was everything I’d ever wanted without knowing it existed. There was no part of me he didn’t claim lying there in his bed. After the second time I screamed his name, he finally gave in to his orgasm. I would be sore tomorrow, but damn, it was worth every second of discomfort to come.
“Come on, let’s go shower. I’ll get some stuff together, and we’ll figure this out as we go.” Collier’s desire to secure this confirmed everything I needed.
Before I got out of bed, I glanced at the clock on my phone. My jog was going to be hell when I got home. I cringed thinking of the humidity and extra fifteen degrees the lapse in time caused. I needed to find a new way to burn calories that didn’t include being outside. I grinned when I thought about sex being a viable alternative but didn’t bother Googling it to see just how often we’d have to do it to replace five miles.
“You coming?” he called out from the bathroom.
I got up and met him in the steam for round two.
16
West had been to my house. He’d been in the living room and kitchen, but he hadn’t been beyond that. But he settled in like there was no place he’d rather be. I kept thinking he’d get tired of my tiny space and hint at leaving or moving. But as the days turned into weeks, more of his stuff accumulated in my closet, and I found myself giving him more drawers. I loved having him around, but I wasn’t gung-ho about cramming my crap into smaller spaces. And I flat out refused to give up my cabinet dedicated to all things OPI.
“Giselle, there must be two hundred bottles of nail polish in here. You can’t possibly use them all.” Collier got my obsession…to an extent. We’d apparently reached that point.
I wandered into the bathroom and stared at my collection he was moaning about. “I do.”
“You couldn’t use all of these in a year if you painted your nails every other day. And every time I turn around you’re bringing home another bottle. Can’t we consolidate this? Even a little?”
“Collier, they’re all very distinct colors. They all serve different purposes. And some just suit my mood depending on the day.”
“You choose nail polish based on your mood?”
“Absolutely. Color is an accessory just like your ties and cufflinks.”
“I don’t have two hundred ties, and all my cufflinks fit into a box the size of my hand. It’s hardly the same.”
“Is this really going to be our first fight as a couple?” I put my hand on my hip and cocked it to the side with attitude.
He closed the door to the cabinet and pulled me to him by my waist. “No, babe. I love your passion for color coordinating your nails with your outfits and mood…even if I don’t have a clue how you can tell the difference between twenty-seven shades of pink.” With a gentle kiss to my temple, he released me and let the subject go.
Everything had been picture perfect between the two of us. My friends acted like we had always been together and included him in everything we did. I never asked him how he felt about hanging out with seven women and listening to us discuss all things feminine. Slowly our groups were merging, and our clan had become tightly knit. The guys hung out with the girls. Most of the time, we—West and myself—were around, but Beck frequently had everyone over to hang out by the pool. Sometimes we went and others we didn’t. Our presence wasn’t necessary for them to get together. The envy I anticipated never came. My desire for independence didn’t surface.