And this time, maybe they’d do more than sleep.

CHAPTER SIX

NEVER BEFORE HAD he been so acutely aware of a woman, but this woman had only to breathe and it turned him on. Having her in his apartment was like foreplay, even though sex wasn’t on the agenda.

Torturous.

While trying to stay otherwise busy, Armie heard her in the kitchen, moving around, cooking for him, and damn it, he liked it.

He liked having her here, liked her being involved, liked the elusive daydream that maybe this could be a recurring thing.

Together with Rissy. Playing house.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, drew a breath and, feeling slightly better grounded in reality, joined her in the kitchen.

She wore a soft T-shirt and another pair of jeans that hugged her pert ass and long thighs. She’d left her shoes by his front door and stood at the stove in her socks.

Stirring something in a big pan, she glanced up. “All done?”

He’d thrown in some laundry and done a quick, general pickup of his place. He wasn’t a neat freak, but he wasn’t a slob, either. After that he’d returned some calls to sponsors, a few to other camps that had invited him to work out and one to Drew Black, the president of the SBC. He’d taken his cell to the bedroom to talk and Rissy had stayed in the kitchen, and still, every second, one part of his brain had dwelled on her nearness. “I’ll have to switch to the dryer in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll remind you,” she promised, and her upbeat tone showed that she wasn’t suffering the same emotional uproar as him. “Dinner will be done right around then.”

“What are you cooking anyway?” Scented steam floated in the kitchen, making his stomach rumble. He made a point of eating something every couple of hours. Usually some type of protein. But Rissy kept him so off-kilter he sometimes forgot to breathe, much less eat.

“It’s a chicken dish my mom used to make. Don’t worry, Cannon approved it for his diet, so I’m guessing it’s okay for you, too.”

As she stirred, her hips moved, and that stirred him, too.

Feeling awkward in his own kitchen, Armie asked, “Anything I can do to help?”

“Nope. I’ve got it covered.”

“Okay then.” He pulled out a chair and sat. Might as well get the show on the road. The sooner he put it behind him, the sooner he could get his head on straight again. “I guess we can talk now then.”

Rissy flashed him a worried look, then went back to the food before her, her shoulders slumped. Seconds ticked by before she said, “Do I need to sit down for this?”

Tension pulled his brows together. “Do you still care about Steve?”

Her gaze shot to his. “No.”

“Then it shouldn’t bother you to know I did, in fact, beat the shit out of him, as he accused—but not without good reason.”

Her expression eased and she smiled. After stirring the food one more time she turned it on low and wiped her hands on a dish towel. Joining him at the table, she sat and took one of his hands. “Armie.”

Alarm skittered up his spine. “Uh...what?”

“I already knew you wouldn’t have pulverized Steve, or anyone else for that matter, without a very, very good reason. You didn’t have to tell me that.”

So she thought she knew what motivated him? He almost laughed.

“But if you’d like to tell me, I’ll admit I’m awfully curious.”

When she looked at him like that, her eyes big and happy and sincere, especially while also touching him, he could barely think.

“About Steve,” she prompted.

Shit. “Right.” He freed his hand and sat back in the chair, putting a marginal amount of space between them. “I overheard him talking one night about getting his jollies with some other chick while you were in Japan with Cannon.”

“Huh. Well, not surprising,” she said. “I never could credit him with a lot of integrity.”

“Yet you stayed with him.”

“Just casual dating.” She shrugged. “I’m twenty-three, Armie. Spending my nights at home alone didn’t sound all that fun, you know? Steve was a way to pass the time. We both knew it wasn’t serious. And honestly, if he’d told me he wanted to date other people, I probably wouldn’t have cared all that much.” She tipped her head. “But you wouldn’t have smashed him for that.”

Still reeling over the idea of her being home alone, maybe lonely, Armie shook his head. “No.” An awful suspicion flamed to life in his guts, starting a very uncomfortable burn. Had he hurt Rissy by trying to protect her? Had she been home alone because he’d turned her down?

She crossed her arms on the table, a smile dancing over her lips. “My curiosity mounts by the second. Out with it already.”

Needing to move, he left his chair and went to the stove on the pretense of stirring the food. “He’d made a few shitty jokes about the lady, saying how he’d gotten her stoned to make her more agreeable. That was bad enough, but then he said he needed to restock his supply before you got home. So I followed him.”

Merissa came to stand at the counter beside him. “Steve was planning to drug me?”

“I only know what I heard.” He avoided her gaze; her nearness was already testing him enough. “Since I didn’t make a big secret out of following him, he had some of his friends circle around.” Satisfaction gave him a smile. “Guess he thought they’d outnumber me or something.”

“Dumb,” Rissy said, showing a lot of faith in his ability. “So did you leave them all as beat-up as Steve?”

“Close.” Finally he faced her. “If they hadn’t jumped me, I’d have let it go.” Maybe. “But once that first punch was thrown...”

She patted his chest. “I understand.” She stopped patting and just let her hand, small and warm, rest against him. “Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”

Beneath her palm, his heart thundered. Absurd that a simple, friendly pat would do that to him. “You dumped him, and good riddance. I figured that was the end of it until I saw him at your house today.”

Her fingers curled against him the smallest bit, almost a caress. “You don’t have to worry about Steve.”

He’d worry if he wanted to. “Stay away from him, okay? He’s bad news.”

“No problem. I’d already told him there wasn’t anything left between us.”

Because she wanted him, instead? Armie went around her. “Gotta get my laundry. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she called after him. “Dinner is ready, too.”

“I won’t be long.” And even though it felt like fleeing, he got out of there as fast as he could. In the basement of the building, he switched his laundry into the dryer, then just took a moment to get it together. Tension gripped him the exact same way it did during sex.

And Rissy had only stood there, looking like herself, cooking for him, touching his chest once.

Maybe the celibacy had finally caught up to him.

Maybe the ever-growing need had reached the boiling point.

In the past, he’d managed by steering clear of her. He couldn’t do that anymore. He sure as hell couldn’t do it tonight.