The Hookup Handbook(23)

“I think I’m going to call for a ride and swing home. I’d rather shower there.” Or we could shower together. I shake my head, dismissing the intrusive thought.

Case crinkles his brow. “Are you okay?”

Shit. He can tell that things are weird. I need to get my head on straight. We don’t have time to unpack the details of last night, or the fact we both obviously want each other. Maybe that’s the grown-up thing to do. Maybe he’s only focused on this book deadline breathing down his neck.

“I’m great,” I say, mustering up some forced enthusiasm. “Just a little sleepy. I’ll feel better once I shower and change clothes. Then I’ll be ready to crush those two chapters we need to get done today.”

I manage a phony smile as I lock eyes with him again. I’m half expecting that famous stare, but instead, his eyes are softer, maybe even a little confused.

I chug what’s left of my coffee and set the mug on the counter. “Leave that out for me, okay? I’m gonna refill it when I get back.”

“Sure thing.”

I head for the foyer to find my shoes, doing the mental math of today’s schedule. If I’m back in an hour, that gives us three and a half hours for each chapter before I have to go teach ballet. Three and a half hours times two, plus an hour for lunch since I promised Allison I’d meet up with her, that makes . . .

“Hey, Sienna, wait up.”

My train of thought halts and my breath catches in my throat. “Yeah?”

Case stops me in the hall, his deep blue gaze looking troubled. “Fuck. I’m not good at this.” He shoves one hand in his pocket and lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry about last night. I came on a bit too strong.”

Sorry? He’s sorry?

His words stun me. And suddenly, I don’t want him to have regrets. Our chemistry was unexpected, but that kiss was . . . a twelve out of ten. I’ve never been kissed like that. But apparently it wasn’t as good for him. Or at least, he doesn’t want to do it again.

It’s silent for a second as I formulate a response, and I hope he can’t hear my heart thumping in my chest.

“Nothing to apologize for.” I take a deep breath and work up a cheeky grin. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

The whole ride home, I can hardly hear the radio over my pounding heart.

He’s sorry? He didn’t seem sorry last night. Did he think I wanted an apology? What I want is to be kissed like that again—passionately and against all his better judgment.

I inhale deeply and force that thought away. He’s my boss. And an escort. And Ryder’s boss. There are so many reasons why that kiss was a bad idea. I’m just having trouble coming up with any that matter.

Ryder’s bedroom door is closed when it gets home, but it hardly dampens the sound of his snoring. He must have had another late night working this double client load. I’m just glad he made it home safe with the storm. And that, once again, I’ve dodged an awkward conversation with him, thanks to his sleep schedule.

I take a speed shower and slip into a black T-shirt dress and wedges, deciding to let my hair air dry to save time. I’ve got fifteen minutes to make it back to Case’s in order for us to stay on schedule, so I swipe on a coat of mascara and race back to work.

When I return to the office, Case is already at his desk. Actually, by the looks of it, he’s probably been there since I left an hour ago. A plate with remnants of spinach and eggs sits next to his keyboard as he types with one hand, drinking his coffee with the other. On my desk, the mug I used this morning is waiting for me, filled to the brim with coffee and just a splash of creamer.

A smile creeps across my face. He pays attention.

“I got a page and a half done while you were gone,” Case says, his eyes flickering with pride. “Will you look it over while I keep writing?”

“Of course. Send it over.”

“Already did.”

I sit down at my desk and open my email to download the attachment. The words MULTIPLE ORGASMS are typed in bold at the top of the page.

Oh, good. Nothing to distract me here.

As I read through Case’s description of his best tongue techniques, it’s impossible not to imagine him putting them to practice on me. Maybe he’d want to lay me across his desk and hike up my dress and—

“How’s it look?” Case asks, swiveling his desk chair toward me.

“So damn good,” I half whisper, half moan.

“What?”

“Good. Really good.” I snap out of it, jolting out of my fantasy land. “Just a few grammatical things and some sentence reorganization. Nothing major.” It’s a good attempt at a save, but I can already feel my cheeks going pink, giving me away.

Either Case doesn’t notice or he doesn’t acknowledge it, because he goes right back to work, typing away at the next section of the chapter. And good Lord, I can’t wait to read whatever he’s working on. Something is seriously wrong with me.

Lunchtime sneaks up on us quickly, but we have a solid first draft of the chapter by the time the clock clicks past noon. Case opts to keep writing through lunch, so I promise to bring him back something from the café down the street where I’m meeting Allison.

It’s a quick ten-minute walk, even in heels, and Allison pulls into the parking lot just as I reach the café door. Perfect timing. Luckily, there’s no line at the register, and we’re cozied up at a table with our sandwiches with hardly any time wasted. I need every millisecond of advice she can offer me.