Trey has done the unthinkable. He’s slept with Shayla who he still has to share a house with as her landlord. But despite his fears that she would turn clingy, he’s horrified to discover that she’s perfectly fine and he’s the one getting caught up.
Trey watched as Shayla strolled the aisle just ahead of the cart at a leisurely pace, pausing every once in awhile to check items on the shelves, turning to grab something else. The ritual of shopping together had taken on more significance lately. Living in the same house, sleeping together, shopping together. It made them seem more like a couple. This was where the panic was supposed to set in.
But he didn’t feel it.
Maybe it was because despite spending the countless hours with him in bed, Shayla was the same out of bed. She joked with and made fun of him and was seemingly unaffected by this new, and to his mind fairly dramatic turn of events.
Which was precisely what he wanted, wasn’t it?
Trey’s fear had been that once they got back from San Diego she would start thinking crazy shit, like that he would hold her hand or something. But it was weeks later and she hadn’t. Apart from the fact that they wound up in each other’s beds more than a few times a week, surprisingly little else had changed. No awkwardness, no clinging, nothing. None of his fears had come to fruition. Instead, Shayla was even more comfortable in his company than before.
And the way he felt around her now . . . it wasn’t ‘comfortable’ that was for damn sure. She was exactly as she’d always been.
So why the hell was he so damn jumpy lately?
“I think we should try these,” Shayla said to him now, holding up a trio of Indian simmer sauces. “If we use chicken breast it would be really easy to make. You like Indian food, don’t you?”
Trey nodded distractedly, almost impatiently and Shayla’s eyes narrowed as she detected his mood.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, resuming her stroll, her back turned to him once again.
He made a vague, non-committal noise and kept walking.
“Nothing,” he said.
“You sure?” Shayla asked, glancing at him again.
They finished up the shopping with very little other conversation. Shayla added several new items to their standard shopping list, to which he had no comment. Except for when she grabbed one of those huge cartons of strawberries. When Trey told her that he wouldn’t eat any of them and that she couldn’t possibly eat them all before they started to go bad, she’d still insisted on getting it. And that had led to some bickering for a couple minutes during which Trey realized he was being unnecessarily difficult, but was still powerless to stop himself.
It was her calm that was getting to him. She was completely serene while he was in turmoil for reasons he couldn’t even begin to identify. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of something huge and nameless and unfamiliar while she skipped around without a care in the world.
Finally, they were heading back to the house and unloading the boxes, putting everything away. Shayla moved about the kitchen, clearing away the debris of their shopping trip, breaking down cardboard boxes, bending, stretching reaching.
And Trey couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
It was as though they’d unleashed some kind of untamed beast and all he could think about was being inside her. But that was to be expected, because the sex was phenomenal. What was much more difficult to accept was that sometimes, on the rare occasions when he didn’t want to have sex, he just wanted to be with her.
“Hey,” he said as Shayla righted herself from tucking some plastic bags under the kitchen sink.
She turned to look at him, her eyes questioning. She’d been a little quieter since he’d picked on her in Costco about the damn strawberries. Shayla smiled and Trey smiled back. Those eyes . . .
“Get over here,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She smiled, coming toward him slowly.
Trey put his hands on her hips, pressing his fingers into them, sliding his hands inside the waistband of her jeans to make contact with bare skin. Shayla’s eyes never left his. He pulled her closer, so their chests were just touching, the very tips of her soft breasts brushing against him.
When she was around, everything was better. And that scared the crap out of him.
“What’s gotten into you?” she asked softly. She tilted her head to one side, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“You,” he said. “You have.”