Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(20)

She propped the cupcakes on her hip and placed one hand on the staircase banister. “Maybe it was the same before, but you’re doing all this great . . . stuff to it.”

His lips twitched. “Stuff?”

“Yeah.” Finally, a hint of her smile. “Great stuff.” It went away just as fast as it had appeared. “Anyway, Darcy told me where you were. I’m glad she did. I can’t believe no one knows about this place.” Her gaze swept over the entryway. “You’re going to live here?”

Russell nodded even though he wasn’t sure of anything. “Since you’re here, I might as well show you around. Head on up.”

On the way up the stairs, he kept his head focused on her ankle. No higher. Just enough to make sure she wasn’t limping. If he got an eyeful of her ass or a flash of thigh, he’d be showing her a lot more than the bedrooms upstairs. His cock had already grown heavy, recognizing her from a million fevered dreams. She was the fuel that had provided the guy downstairs with hours and hours of frantic stroking, and dude wanted to say a personal thank-you. But it would not be happening. This was a good thing. She’d come here wanting things back to normal. Russell wanted that, too. Right? Right.

When he reached the landing, her yellow dress beckoned him into the small office, adjacent to the master bedroom. “Office,” he said, stating the obvious, like an *.

“Wow. Such great lighting in here.” She went up on her toes to look out the window. “That’s one thing my office at work is lacking. It could be nighttime, and I wouldn’t even know if I didn’t have a clock.”

He felt his features arrange themselves in a scowl at the thought of her in an airless, windowless room, but remembering what she’d said Monday night about his always being mad at her, he erased the expression before she could turn around. “The jobs we’ve done, a lot of customers don’t like too much light in their offices because it creates a glare off their computer screens.”

“Oh. Not me. I’d want it to feel like I was working outside. Maybe even a big old skylight.” She tucked a stray strand of rich, brown hair behind her ear. “Everyone has their own tastes, though. It’s perfect the way it is.” Still carrying the cupcakes, she passed him and left the room. Russell considered the small space a moment, ruminating on the merits of added sunlight, before following.

It was ridiculous, but he actually hesitated on the threshold of the master bedroom. At this point in time, it wasn’t a bedroom just yet. He’d managed to put up Sheetrock on all four walls, but beyond that it was mainly sawdust, tools, and another worktable. Not the place he was possibly planning to sleep for the rest of his life. But once he saw Abby within those walls, would he be able to take it back? Or would she be there every time he fell asleep, even fifty years from now? Peeking out the window in her yellow sundress, outlined by the rain?

Russell took a steadying breath and entered the bedroom. Abby had set the cupcakes down on the worktable so she could pick up his hammer drill. Ah Jesus, Abby holding a power tool. His two favorite things in one. Code f*cking red.

“Why aren’t you at work?” he asked, kicking at some sawdust on the ground.

“I took an extended lunch break.” She set the drill down on the windowsill, as if it had grown too heavy. “I have to go back later, though. I just—”

“What? You just what?” God, why couldn’t he stop being such a jerk to her? Maybe because every second he spent breathing white-grape sunlight caused a buildup in his chest, crowding his insides and threatening to spill free. It wasn’t so much being a jerk as trying to hide his panic.

Abby smoothed a hand down the skirt of her dress, big hazel eyes trained on him. “I just don’t like that I’ve deleted about a hundred text messages to you since Monday, okay? Or not knowing if you’ll want to hang out with me again.” She rolled her right shoulder back. “I know I took advantage of you. But I apologized, Russell. And to be perfectly honest, I think you’re taking this silent treatment a little too far. And now I find out you have this whole other life—”

“Back up.” She’d written and deleted messages to him. Messages that would never reach his phone. That knowledge was a shotgun bullet right in the gut. “What was that first part, again?”

“I took advantage of—”

“Yeah. That part.” His booted footsteps created an echo as he approached her. “Don’t ever say or think that bullshit again. Are we clear?”

Her back pressed against the wall when he got close enough to touch, her brow wrinkling. “But it’s true, I—”

Russell laid his palms flat above her head, pulses pounding wildly all over his body. His temples, his chest, below his belt. “I’m warning you, Abby.”

That was the exact moment he showed his hand. And he didn’t know if he held aces or a deuce-seven off-suit. He only knew based on Abby’s curious expression that he’d just alerted her to the fact that a decision hung in the balance. It was hers to make, and the result was his backing off or going forward.

Or maybe there was no decision at all. Had it all been decided Monday night in her bedroom? The first time she’d walked out onto her building’s stoop and he’d sunk like a stone beneath a crashing wave? He didn’t know. But hearing her blame herself for their becoming physical simply wouldn’t fly. Not when he’d wrung his dick out nightly for the last six months, pretending like she was watching it happen, gasping in approval, and kissing his neck. Christ. His Abby had been defiled by him so many times, a number didn’t exist. She would take the blame for what happened between them over his dead body.