Until April (Until Her/Him #10)(9)

“You’re my client.”

“Yeah, and…?” He spits and rinses his mouth.

“And….” And nothing. I’ve got nothing. I mean, that reason alone is stupid, since I slept with him last night. “Well, I mean….” Oh my God, I sound like one of my sisters.

“Get your shoes. It won’t take me long to get dressed.” He pats my ass as he walks past me, and I stare at him as he puts on a pair of boxers, and then grabs his jeans. “Babe, get dressed.”

With a sigh, I find my shoes and put them on, then sit on the bed. I watch him put on a pair of sneakers before he packs a smaller bag with a shaving kit, shoes, slacks, and another button-down, this one burgundy. Once he’s got all his stuff together, he picks up his keys, then lets me out of his room. And with his hand in the middle of my back, he leads me to the elevator, then out to the parking garage to his car.

Once he’s seated behind the wheel and is backing out of his space, I touch his arm, and his eyes come to me. “I need to pick up my car from the bar.”

“I got you.” He rests his hand on my thigh, his touch so familiar yet foreign outside the moments we shared last night.

“Do you always rent such extravagant cars when you come to town?” I ask as he heads toward downtown through the quiet streets, the sound of his engine probably waking people as we pass by the apartments along the road.

“I didn’t rent this. It’s mine. I keep it at my sister’s place so I’ll have it when I’m here.” He looks over at me when he stops at a red light. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Right.” He smiles.

“It’s just very… Vegas,” I point out.

“What kind of car should I buy for Nashville? And do not say a pickup truck.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “I can’t see you in a pickup.” I look him over. Even in jeans and a T-shirt, he still looks stylish. “Maybe a Benz Jeep, a Hummer, or a Cadillac.”

“My mom has the Benz Jeep. It’s a nice ride. What do you drive?”

“You’ll see.” I shrug, then ask, “If you keep your car at your sister’s house, why don’t you stay with her while you’re here in town?”

He glances over at me, and jealousy fills the pit of my stomach, making me feel nauseous. The emotion is shocking, given the fact that I have no rights to him, but there is still no denying that’s what I feel.

“Never mind.” I don’t need him to explain to me that he is a good-looking single man with an obviously high sex drive and enough skill to live up to the promise of him. “Turn right into the next alley.” I grab my bag from the floor at my feet and dig inside for my keys. Once I have them in hand and he stops, I unhook my belt and open my door. “You can follow me to my place.” He doesn’t say anything, so I get out but stop when he is there to meet me at the hood of his car.

“You okay?” He gets close, his hand shooting out to wrap around my hip, and I pull in a breath through my nose when he tugs me against his chest.

“Yeah, just tired, I think.”

“Are you okay to drive?”

“I don’t live very far from here.”

“We’ll sleep when we get to your place.” He holds my chin as he leans down to brush his lips over mine, then leans back, his eyes roaming my face. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”

“Yeah,” I say, and he lifts his chin, then walks me to my car and opens the door. “Nice ride.”

“Thanks.” I smile up at him, then settle into my seat and turn on the engine. His gaze moves to the windshield, his brows dragging together, and I follow his eyes, noticing then that there is a white piece of paper stuck under my wiper. He pulls it out and opens it up, his jaw ticking as he hands it over to me. I read the messy writing with Cohen’s number, then ball up the piece of paper and toss it into my cup holder.

“A fan of yours?”

“An ex of mine,” I tell him, and he lifts his chin, not looking any happier as he takes a step back.

“Meet you at your place.”

“All right,” I agree, and he shuts my door. I watch him in my rearview mirror as he gets into his car, then turn around.

I back out and lead the way to my place, the drive only taking about fifteen minutes, since there is not really any traffic on the road. When I pull into my driveway, he parks behind me, then meets me at my door with his bag in hand. I let us both inside and pull off my shoes, taking them upstairs with me while he leaves his by the front door near my coatrack.

“This is cool.” He walks to the garage door, the early morning light allowing him to see outside.

“It’s the reason I bought this place.” I yawn as he turns to face me. “The bedrooms are upstairs.”

“Lead the way.” He walks toward me with a soft look on his face, then follows me upstairs to the second floor, where we walk past my two spare rooms, a guest bath, and the laundry room.

When we get to my bedroom, I flip on the light, then carry my shoes to my closet, putting them where they belong. I walk out, finding him stripping out of his clothes, and stop in the doorway. I have never had a man in my house before; even when my sister May and I were living together, I never brought a man home. “What are you thinking?”