“Shit,” he exhales. “It’s not like he’s out there, treating women like queens.”
“I think that’s part of why he doesn’t trust men with me. That, and we just don’t have the best relationship with our parents, so he kind of took on a protector role. It’s no wonder I went to college as a virgin.” I pause abruptly at the door. “I’m sorry. I just overshared.”
He looks completely taken aback. My cheeks feel like they are on fire. I’m mortified that I just shared that with him. There’s no doubt in my mind this man knows his way around a woman’s body.
What would he think if he knew just how inexperienced I was?
No, I’m not a virgin anymore, but I’m also totally uncomfortable with my own body and what to do with it.
He stands awkwardly in front of me, clearly caught off guard by my admission, before his eyes catch the large box lying against the wall.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“Oh, that’s just my new desk for my office. I got it up the elevator but needed a break before I carried it into the office. It weighs a ton.”
He measures me with a disapproving look. “Why didn’t you ask for my help?”
“Why would I do that?”
“I told you, I’m just upstairs if you ever need help.”
“I don’t need help. I just needed a break.”
He grabs the box and nods his head toward my door. “Open.”
He’s so overbearing. I want to refuse, but he’s also my boss. I should just let him do his thing and not make a big deal.
Once the door is open, he steps into the apartment and walks down the hall, carrying the box like it doesn’t weigh one hundred pounds. His biceps are something to behold. They are flexed and stretching his sleeves like they can’t be contained.
He places the box in the middle of the room that will be my office, then looks around with his hands on his hips.
“I can have some built-in bookcases put in this room for you,” he suggests.
“Oh, I’m sure you don’t want to do that to this room. What about the next tenant?”
His dark eyes find mine. “I’m not worried about the next tenant. Would you like the bookcases?”
“I love built-ins,” I admit softly.
Who doesn’t love the idea of a wall full of built-in bookcases? I’m an interior designer after all.
He nods his head like it’s settled. “I’ll start on them this week.”
My head tilts to the side as I try to understand what he means. I think he spoke wrong. “Youwill get started?”
“Yeah. My grandpa was a carpenter. I love building things. It’s a stress reliever for me. Unless you would prefer, I hired someone?”
Images of Roman in my office—shirtless with nothing but a pair of jeans, boots, and a tool belt, sweat dripping down his chest, trickling further to what I’m sure is an insane set of abs—flood my brain.
Crap. I can’t say no. It’s a nice gesture. My libido will just have to deal with it. I’m going to need to invest in some strong vibrators.
“No, you can build it. I’m just … surprised. I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who does much manual labor.”
I look him up and down, clearly checking out his body. A smirk spreads across his stupid, handsome face.
“I don’t usually offer to build things for someone … but I make an exception when the project’s tempting enough.”
My words get caught in my throat. Is he sayingI’mtempting him, or the project is? There is something lazily seductive in his look.