I wake up in complete darkness. My first thought is how great I feel. I have forgotten what it feels like to wake up after a good night’s sleep. It takes a second to realize that it’s pitch black in the room. I sit up quickly and look at the clock on the bedside table, and my heart starts beating out of my chest when I see that it’s four o’clock. I missed work!

I jump out of bed and run to the door, swinging it open only to be bombarded with bright daylight. I look over my shoulder into the room and see that there are now dark, wooden blinds on the windows, whereas before there were only sheer curtains. My heart, which was already beating hard, starts to beat harder. Kenton put in blinds while I was at work, knowing how little sleep I’ve been getting. That was sweet. Really sweet.

I go to the bathroom, quickly taking care of business, and then head down to the kitchen. As soon as I make it around the corner, I’m surprised to see Kenton there, wearing the same cut-off sweats he had on last night and a pair of sneakers. His head is back, his throat working vigorously while he downs a bottle of water. The ends of his hair are dripping with sweat along with his bare chest.

I stand there captivated by him; I can’t pull my eyes away no matter how hard I try. Just watching him drink water is making the space between my legs get tingly. When the bottle’s empty, he pulls it from his mouth, the back of his hand goes to his lips, and he swipes them. As soon as his head turns, his eyes land on me and a look I’m starting to become familiar with fills his eyes.

“How’d you sleep?” he rumbles.

I stand there staring at him, trying to comprehend what he just said over the lustful haze that’s filling my head.

“You put up blinds,” I say when I finally find my words and then want to smack myself for being an idiot.

“I know how tired you’ve been,” he says, his eyes going soft.

“That was very sweet, and I actually slept really great. When I woke up, I thought I’d overslept and missed work.”

His smile makes the breath catch in my throat.

“I thought you would be at work,” I tell him, trying to think of something else to say besides, “Please kiss me.”

“Yeah. I have to leave for a couple of nights. Justin has a lead for me, but my flight isn’t until after midnight, and I wanted to make sure you would be okay being here alone.”

My heart plummets. I don’t want him to leave, but I know his work is important. Plus, I would look really stupid if I were to beg him to stay. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” I wave him off, trying to do the same with the feeling of loneliness starting to fill my chest. I’ve forgotten what that feels like; I haven’t felt it since I moved here.

He shakes his head and takes two long steps until his body is crowding mine. “I like worrying about you.”

“Why?” I ask softly, my eyes drawn to his mouth.

“Honesty, I don’t know.”

I look at him and my hands go to his chest when I feel like I might fall over from the heat in his eyes.

“What I do know is I want this”—his finger presses lightly into my chest above my heart—“more than I’ve wanted anything, and that right there tells me everything I need to know.”

“Oh,” I breathe. The words aren’t deep or particularly meaningful, but something about the way he said it, with such sincerity, has me leaning deeper into him.

His hand goes to the back of my neck and the other around my waist. I expect him to kiss me, but instead, he just pulls my head into his naked chest and the rest of me tighter against him.

We stand there for a long time with our arms wrapped around each other. I want to ask what he’s thinking, but I’m too afraid to break the moment. Instead, I listen to the sound of his heart beating rhythmically against my ear as I memorize the thud and double beat along with the way his chest feels when it expands against my cheek. This is a moment I know I can recall the next time I need comfort.

“When I get home, we have a date.”

“Maybe.”

I smile as I hear his low growl. “I’m not even pissed that you wanna f**k with me right now.” He pulls my head away from his chest, his hands go around my neck, and his thumbs slide under my jaw, tilting my head back. His mouth lowers and my eyes start to flutter closed. “Every time you f**k with me, it makes me wanna f**k you. One day, we’re going to get to a point in our relationship where you’ll say something to set me off and I’ll bend you over right where you stand and punish you for misbehaving or talking back.”

My clit starts to pulse. I can feel my breathing increase, my chest meeting his on each deep inhale. He closes the gap between us, his lips touching mine. When his tongue touches my bottom lip, my eyes close and I get lost in his kiss. By the time he pulls his mouth from mine, I’ve never hated clothes more than I do right now. I have the urge to take off my sweatshirt and plaster my chest against his.

“I gotta shower,” he says, resting his forehead on mine.

“Sure.” I nod, my eyes still closed.

He chuckles and shakes his head against mine. “If you don’t wanna come shower with me, baby, you need to hop off.”

I open my eyes, seeing that my fingers have somehow gotten tangled into his hair and my legs have wrapped around his waist. I bite my bottom lip, place my hands on his shoulders, unwrap my legs, and hop down. “Sorry.” I shake my head, trying to clear my needful haze.

“Don’t apologize.” He kisses my nose then forehead. “I’ll be back down to say goodbye before I leave.”

“Okay.” I nod again.

His hand goes to his chest then runs down his abs. My eyes follow its movement until they drop lower, seeing his very apparent erection outlined through his sweats. My eyes get big and lift to his when he starts to laugh.

“Jesus, you’re cute.” He shakes his head, running a hand down his face. “I gotta go before you end up on the counter.” His voice sounds deeper than normal, and I nod again. “Baby, you gotta move,” he says, his hands fisting at his sides.

My gaze drops to his hands before shooting back up to his eyes when he growls. I don’t know what’s going on, but I immediately step aside so he can get out of the kitchen. I watch him walk away, his head bent as he mumbles something under his breath.

“Coffee,” I whisper to myself.

I pull up to the house, seeing a strange car parked out front. My pulse starts to speed up as I wonder who it could be. Kenton messaged me when I was at work, letting me know that he had arrived at his destination safely. I didn’t ask where he was; I figured that, if he wanted me to know, he would tell me. I worry that he’s in danger, and maybe his leaving has something to do with my situation. I don’t want him hurt because of me, but I trust that he knows what he’s doing. After all, he’s been doing it for years without incident.