Page 51 of The Accidental Dating Experiment
Monroe: This coffee sucks. My barista better be ready with the espressos when I return to the city.
Carter’s the morning-est person I know, so I’m confident he’ll be up. He doesn’t disappoint. A few seconds later, he responds.
Carter: Aww. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.
Monroe: Your bar is low.
Carter: Dude, it’s you. Have you ever met you? Your emotional range is measured in micro-millimeters. So I translated your text to mean I miss you and your life-affirming espressos.
Monroe: Whatever you need to tell yourself.
Carter: My point exactly. So, how’s spending every day and night with your crush?
I growl, annoyed at the blunt question. First, she doesn’t seem like a crush. Second, because spending time with her in this house is challenging, complicated, and absolutely too wonderful for me to handle well.
I heave a sigh, wishing I knew what to do about last night. How to understand it. What box to put it in. I was so sure I had my thoughts and actions under control when we entered the house post-limo ride, but once she walked into the bedroom by herself, it took all of two minutes for my desire for her to consume me.
Now, in the light of the day, what am I going to do with this desire? It hasn’t dampened. It’s grown bigger.
But we’re still co-workers. And we still live on opposite sides of the romance fence. Not to mention, she’s Sawyer’s sister. While he’d never pull that don’t touch my sister bullshit, I still have to contend with the fact that I never told him about our fling eight years ago. Like I’m going to tell him now that I flung with her again.
When soft feet shuffle on hardwood, I push all thoughts of Sawyer aside. Juliet appears in the kitchen, wearing a long T-shirt that hits at her thighs. She’s yawning and making my heart thump harder from a goddamn yawn.
Fuck, she’s cute in the morning. I toss the phone on the counter, not giving a shit that it slides to the corner.
“Hey,” she says, a little morning gravelly.
I didn’t know she sounded like that in the morning. I tuck that into the ever-expanding Juliet file.
“Hey.”
She tips her chin toward the coffee maker. “You made coffee. You are a hero.”
“It’s awful. I should be outlawed from making coffee again.”
“That bad?”
“So bad I should go out and get you coffee right now if you want some,” I offer, and I’m ready to go. All she has to do is say the word.
But she shakes her head. “I can do tea instead. I bet Eleanor has tea.” Juliet heads to the cupboards and hunts around for a box. I can’t stop watching her. The way she lifts her arm. How her heart necklace catches the light of the sun. How her T-shirt rides up to reveal she’s not wearing any undies.
“You’re naked,” I grunt, stating the obvious.
She gives me a look like I’ve earned a cookie. “Yes, and the sky is blue.”
But her tone doesn’t deter me. I close the distance between us, crowding her from behind, pushing her hair off her shoulder, and dropping a morning kiss to her inviting neck—a slow, lingering one I don’t want to ever end.
She murmurs, then leans back against me, her ass pressed to my groin, her back to my chest. “Monroe,” she says.
“Yes?” I ask, utterly distracted by her neck.
“What are we doing?”
It’s an icy dose of reality. I let go as she spins around, facing me. We didn’t have the talk last night. We just crashed post-sex. This conversation was inevitable, though, and necessary. I run a hand through my hair, figuring out what to say. Let’s do it again sounds crass. Let’s fuck for the week even crasser. But the truth? You’re under my skin—that’s even worse.
I can’t tell this bold, brave woman who’s ready to find the one that I’m a little obsessed with her.
“What do you want to do?” If I had a shrink, they’d smack me. Well, no. My fictional shrink would give me the you took the coward’s way out look, which is even worse.