Recovery by Nicole Dykes (best time to read books .txt) 📗

I smile, my lips pulling up as I shrug my shoulder. “Don’t worry, you only snored a little.”

She rolls her eyes at me, but I see her lips lifting. “I don’t snore.”

I know she’s not happy about letting her guard down, and I understand that. But I don’t want her to regret it. “You’re definitely a bed hog.”

She sits up, using a band she has around her wrist to secure her curls into a ponytail. But then she groans, “God, they’re going to think we slept together.”

I sit up, stretching my arms into the air and giving her a pointed look. “Who the fuck cares? We aren’t in high school.”

“They’re my roommates. I don’t want them . . .”

“What?” I laugh. “Thinking you’re easy. Trust me, none of us think that.”

She tosses the pillow that was under her head moments ago at me, and it hits me in the chest. “I’ll just have to tell them you turned me down.”

I fight a groan because it wasn’t easy, feeling her hand on my bare chest trying to nudge me backward. What would her body have felt like on top of mine? I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that. “And like I told you last night, if I thought you actually wanted it, I would have gone through with it, no problem.”

“So, instead you just let me cry like a baby?”

She hates that she let her guard down. I sweep my thumb over her bottom lip that’s so pouty and biteable, “I think you cried like a grown woman who has too much pain inside to bear sometimes.”

She swallows, my thumb lingering on her lip as her eyes remain fixed on me. “I think you try to be light and funny, but maybe you have some pain too. Deep inside.”

I drop my hand and stand from the bed. “We all do.”

She shakes her head at me, staying in my bed. “Not like that. I don’t believe anyone has a perfect life, but I've seen people who haven’t experienced tragedy.” Her gaze narrows, looking right through me. “That’s not you.”

I don’t like the way the conversation is shifting and that my eyes dart to the trophies on the shelf. Her gaze follows, and then our eyes meet again. Hers hold a challenge. “They do have your name on them. I can see them now.”

I shrug. “No big deal.”

“Then why won’t you talk about football?”

Yup, definitely don’t like this. “I just don’t.”

“Every guy I've ever met who played football can’t shut up about it, but you won’t talk about it. Why?”

Christ, why the hell did I insist she talk?

“I just don’t. It was a lifetime ago.” I grab my phone and search, being rude as fuck, I know. But I don’t stop. I look back at her. “I gotta go.”

She raises one eyebrow, not moving from my bed. “Work this early?”

“No.” I offer no other explanation.

This was my lesson. I need to mind my own goddamn business. Usually I do. Something about her made me want to pry, but I didn’t realize it was going to go both ways. “Got a wife? A whole other life somewhere else?”

I put on my best cocky smile and grab a t-shirt from my closet, tugging it on. “Something like that.” I grab a new pair of boxers from my drawer, having no shame, but just as I push yesterday’s boxers down, she looks away, and I tug on the new pair before pulling on a pair of jeans. “I’m decent now.”

She looks back at me but only up at my face. “I doubt that.”

“Look, I know you have plans to get out of here, but I also know that takes time. Time that you’re going to spend with us. So . . .” I shrug, hoping like hell she’s listening to me. “Maybe you can give in a little. Share meals with us. Talk to us. Hang out.”

She looks troubled. “I don’t want to get too attached.”

I laugh at that, unable to help myself. “We’re some charming motherfuckers. I know, but still, you’re already here. Maybe we can help.”

I shouldn’t care so damn much.

“You can’t help me.” Her voice is so fucking sad, and it tears me apart.

“Well, we want to.”

She snorts, “Because you want in my pants.”

My eyes narrow, taking in all her beauty, and I know she knows that’s not true. “Seems to me, I could have last night. If it were only about that, I would have been.”

Her eyes widen, and I watch her throat as she gulps. “You’re an asshole.” Her words hold no venom.

“Never said I wasn’t. But Tommy and James, they really don’t want in your pants, and they want to help you, get to know you. Tommy has trained several waitresses, but he never hangs out with them outside of work.”

“I live here,” she shoots back.

“Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have to be friendly. Truth be told, he’s usually not. But he likes you. James likes you. And Quinn and Logan only fuck each other, so they aren’t trying to get into your pants.”

“Finn?” she asks the question, and I smile wryly because I'm pretty damn sure if she’d have kissed him last night and tried to push him back on the bed, he’d have let her. And that thought alone pisses me off.

“Finn wants to fuck everyone.”

She chuckles softly, “You?”

“I’d definitely like to fuck you.” There again, her eyes widen, and she looks fucking cute when she’s caught off guard by my honesty. “But regardless, I want to help you. Or at the very least, get to know you a little while we’re living together.”

“As soon as I can, I'm leaving.” It’s direct, said like a fact. And I accept that.

“I won’t stop you.” I grab my keys and wallet from the top of my dresser. I peek out in the hall to see it’s clear before turning back to look at the beautiful, complicated goddess on my bed. “No one’s out there if you want to make a break for it