Chapter 21: Twenty One

It took only ten minutes for him to turn onto what he said was his street. "Redford Heights" read on a stone sign at the entrance, the freshly poured concrete road leading up a hill of perfectly manicured lawns and beautiful picturesque red-brick homes. They were all two stories, with trimmed bushes and flower beds following stone pathways from their driveways to their front doors.

He wasn't kidding. There were no sexy bachelors pads in sight.

These were family homes.

"They're so beautiful." I mused aloud, staring out the window like an awed child.

"Well, here we are. Home sweet home." He lifted his arm to press a button on his visor as he pulled into one of the homes. '1306' was plastered on the front in regal font, and the two car garage door opened slowly. It was neat and organized, with an area in the back that housed a tool bench, table saw, and 2X4's. Did he also build?

The door lowered back behind us and he put the car in park, stepping out gracefully. He was acting calm, but I knew better. He hadn't spoken more than two sentences to me on the way here and his hands stayed secured to the steering wheel. He was nervous.

And I knew why.

As soon as we entered the neighborhood, I knew that this had been their home. This was the place they had expected to grow their family, but that didn't happen. My chest hurt at the thought. Not for my sake, but his. I hadn't considered how he would feel taking me to his and his ex-wife's home.

But I would do my damndest to make it easier on him. All I had to do was not bring it up.

We stepped into a small mudroom, where I removed my heels. It felt foreign, but not bad. There was dark hardwood beneath my feet, and I could tell by the stale air that he didn't spend a lot of time here.

He took off his own shoes, padding through the doorframe and into an absolutely gorgeous kitchen with gray and white granite countertops. This home must've cost a fortune. Everything looked new and in perfect condition. Not a single dish was out of place, and the only thing that told me anyone even lived here was the dish towel folded neatly over the edge of the large sink. There were no pictures on the walls, thankfully, but there were plenty of paintings. I wondered if they were his or other artists work, but I was too busy scouring the place to ask.

His warm hands snaking around my waist startled me, and I snapped out of my daze. He rested his chin on my shoulder, pulling me tightly against him.

"I want to hold you, but I need you to take a shower. You make me want to smoke." He mumbled into my hair. Oh shit. I hadn't even considered that.

"Sorry." I apologized, tracing my fingers over his forearms and making him hum. "Lead the way."

He nodded, breaking his hold and walking me through a dining room, complete with an eight person table, and a living room, with a large black leather sectional and the biggest flatscreen I had ever seen. Okay, that bit was pretty bachelor-esque. The stairs were carpeted off-white with a diamond weave and the handrail was polished and perfect. So damn beautiful.

"How much did this place cost?" I finally asked as we ascended.

"You ask a lot of money questions." He laughed.

"I'm an econ major, Joel." I giggled in return.

"Hmm. I think around six hundred." Holy shit. Six hundred thousand? That's three times what my parents' home costed them.

"What's the mortgage on that like?" He laughed, shaking his head.

"I own it, Jennifer. No mortgage. I don't like debt." Why was he so fucking sexy? Also, why did I think that was sexy? Maybe because his maturity was a turn-on for me. I liked that he was responsible and had his shit together. He was a real man, unlike the carefree and horny frat boys I saw tonight who were still blowing mom and dad's money. It was just another reminder that I was caught somewhere between a student and a woman, and Joel was pulling me to the other side.

"Here we are." He announced finally, opening the door to what was obviously the master bedroom. Unlike the rest of the house, this was more representative of Joel. The king bed had towering posts and a thick black duvet to match the sheer black and gray curtains. Over by the back wall was an entire corner dedicated to painting supplies, where several pieces were covered in tan tarps and a stool sat on a plastic carpet protector. It was simple, elegant, with just a little bit of chaos.

Another flatscreen was mounted to the wall across from the bed and there were two doors, one on either side of it. He led me to one of them, opening it to reveal an equally lavish bathroom.

There was a separate glass enclosed shower and clawfoot bathtub. It was beautiful, but clear a man lived here. The vanity was crowded with shaving supplies, cologne, and a toothbrush, and the shower held all mens products on the shelves. Even though he had showered at my apartment twice already, there was still something oddly personal about me doing it at his. He stepped up to a thin cabinet beside the sink, opening it and pulling out Paul Mitchell hotel samples and a fluffy white towel for me.

"I think you'll like this more than my soap." He remarked, turning to me with a soft smile. He was easing up a little, and it made me happy. "Need help with your dress?"

"Please." I needed help putting it on, so I would undoubtedly need help taking it off. I turned for him, holding my hair up and out of the way so that he could unzip me. "I don't have anything else to wear." I added as my dress hit the floor.

But he didn't answer me.

I turned, my brows furrowed in concern, only to see him drinking me in hungrily.

"Where did you get that?" He rasped, nodding to my black lace lingerie. Oh. I forgot I was wearing it. I shifted from foot to foot, clasping my hands over my stomach.

"Um, Danny and Isabelle bought it as an early graduation present." I responded shyly. He shook his head quickly, clearing his mind and turning to the door.

"I'll get you something to wear." And with that, he disappeared.

That was weird. Was he actually trying to behave?

I unhooked my bra and slid my panties down, padding over to the shower with my little soaps. The water felt heavenly, and I took my time with it, scrubbing my scalp to remove every trace of hairspray the girls used. Shit, I needed to text them and tell them where I was. That way they didn't panic later trying to find me.

After I felt thoroughly cleaned, I stepped out, wrapping myself in the luxurious cotton towel with a squeeze. I could get used to this.

A piece of folded maroon cotton caught my eye, and I crossed to the counter to get a closer look. This must be what Joel chose for me to wear. After towel drying my hair and body, I unfolded it. It was a v-neck t-shirt, obviously one of his, with a pair of boxer shorts hiding underneath. I was going to be wearing his clothes. I fought the rush of heat to my face and slid them on quickly before I could overthink it.

They're just clothes. This was fine.

I refolded my towel, in desperate need of a brush, but I didn't see one on the counter. I had to find Joel, or I would wake up with a literal nest for hair. I threw open the door, screaming when I saw him right in front of me, reaching for the handle. He froze, his eyes scanning down the image of me clad in his clothes with drenched hair. I probably looked like a drowned rat.

"Hey, I ran to the convenience store to get you some things." He muttered, his eyes still scanning my lower body. He held out his arm, which held a brush, deodorant, and a toothbrush. Thank the heavens. I said a quick thank you, taking the items and getting to work. "Sorry I wasn't more prepared." He added bashfully, still leaning in the doorway as I brushed my teeth. I met his eyes in the mirror, cocking my head to the side. What the hell was he talking about? It's not like I expected him to have a full supply of women's products for me. After rinsing and wiping my mouth, I bounded to him, throwing my arms around his neck.

"Joel, what's the matter? You're acting weird." He swallowed, finding the small of my back and pulling me against him.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel right now." He admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"Seeing you in my house, in my clothes. I shouldn't feel this way."

"What way?"

"Happy." What? He was worried because me being here made him happy. I let out a sudden giggle, trying but failing to stifle it. "Why're you laughing at me?" He asked with a smile.

"Because I don't understand you. Why is being happy a bad thing? I'm happy being here with you, too." His hands rubbed up my back and he sighed.

"It's not bad. Just unexpected. I feel like I should be uncomfortable with it, but I'm not. Does that make sense?" I was finally starting to understand. From a logical perspective, this was nuts. We had known eachother for less than a week. There were a million reasons that this should feel wrong.

"But it feels right."

"Yea." He mumbled, his grip tightening.

Then, with more clarity than I'd ever possessed, our eyes met. There it was, clear as day. The draw, the attraction. Undefined yet undisputed.

He leaned lower, taking my lips with his, coaxing my mouth open slowly, patiently, as if it were the first time. His hand moved to the side of my face, his thumb tracing my cheek gently. His other found mine sprawled on his chest, pressing it deeper into the muscle just over his heart and entwining our fingers.

It was pure. Beautiful. Bliss.

But it had to end eventually.

He broke away, his blue eyes bright and twinkling in the warm bathroom light.

"Sleep with me?" He asked, and without any clarification, I knew that he wasn't talking about sex. He wanted me beside him, right where I also wanted to be.

"Of course." He kept hold of my hand, leading me to the right side of his bed and pulling back the covers. This would be the first time we had ever actually slept beside one another, and I was terrified. What if I snored? Or talked in my sleep? What if I kicked him or hogged the covers?

"I apologize beforehand if I hit you in my sleep." I said, just in case. He chuckled, helping me up then tucking me in.

"Saying that makes me think it won't be an accident." I snorted, rolling my eyes and turning to face his side.

"I don't actually know how I sleep."

"You never slept next to your ex?" He asked, surprised. I thought back.

"Sort of? Not really close to him. We shared a bed occasionally, but we kept to our sides and never shared blankets."

"That sounds lonely." He replied, stripping off his shirt and jeans and climbing in beside me. I felt his hands grip my waist, pulling me in closer to him and making me giggle. "I hope you weren't expecting that with me." He added. I shook my head.

"Nope. I want to cuddle you. You're warm and-" I stopped. No, that would be weird to say. But it was too late.

"I'm warm and what?" He prompted, inching me even closer. I blushed crimson, scooting in enough to bury my hot face in his chest.

"Comfortable." His lips connected with the top of my head, and I could hear his heartbeat along with his deep breathing. It was so damn soothing, and I was starting to realize how tired I really was.

"You feel comfortable with me?" He murmured, twirling a strand of my damp hair in his fingers.

"Yes. Like I'm home." I admitted with a yawn. He tensed, stilling his hand. God, why did I say that? Clearly, I was still a little intoxicated. Maybe I could play it off as sleep talking? But before I could make an excuse, he pulled me in tighter.

"Sleep, baby. You need rest." And, being surrounded by his warmth and scent, I obeyed.