“I hate to say it to you, but maybe you should sort your career out before you go making grand test-tube baby plans.”

A part of me knows she right. If only this debt wasn’t hanging over me, but I can’t bank on a relationship for another four years only to discover she’s not ready.

“I’m trying.”

“Baby, I know, it’s just you have some work to do yet.”

“Yeah, I get it. For now I’m just a lowly fuckin’ waitress. Clearly that doesn’t make me good mother material.”

“Bloody hell, Sophie. No need to go getting all defensive because I’m a doctor.”

Again with this fucking argument. I couldn’t care less what she did for a job. I would have loved her if she were a checkout chick or worked as a service station attendant—it doesn’t matter to me.

And there it is. Loved. My heart has shut her out. I just didn’t know it until I was faced with this shitty conversation again.

That shit has never mattered to me. Having it thrown in my face, making me feel like I’m less of a human being because of my occupation? That shit hurts. It hurts like hell, because it’s the truth. I’m trying, but I’m taking three steps back for every one that I take forward.

I throw my hands up and bring them down, shutting the boot. “I’m done.”

I get in my car and slam the door and roar onto the street in the direction of Rocco’s place. Putting my phone on hands free, I dial his number to check that he’s home. It rings out and then goes through to his voicemail. I leave a message letting him know I’m on my way. A few minutes later, I try again. Still no answer. He’d fucking better be home.

Even though I don’t like Rocco, at least I’ll have my own room. I’ll have my space, and some kind of independence so I can get my shit together.

And a decent fucking bed. I can’t say I’m not pleased about that.

I’m tired. On so many levels.

CHAPTER SIX

ROCCO

She runs the nails of one hand down my bare chest, as she pumps her other one up and down my shaft.

“Fuck yeah, I’m close,” I grunt out as I grip the back of her head, thrusting farther into her mouth. God, the girl can take it all. I picked a talented one this time.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Who the fuck could that be?

“Mmm,” the girl moans, and flicks the swollen knob before taking me deeper.

My legs jitter as I get closer to blowing, and my hands shake. I need another drink. To steady them, I tighten my hold on her black ponytail.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Again.

It’s an instant party-dampener. My release now seems that much further away. With any luck, whoever it is will piss off.

I get my head back to the beauty in my lap, who right now is sucking me like a hoover.

“That’s it, suck me dry,” I say, my voice gravelly. She squeezes her lips tighter around me, and bobs her head quicker up and down. Oh yeah.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. More insistent this time.

“Fuck me!” I cry out.

The knocking doesn’t stop.

I stand up, and the dark-haired girl sits back on her ankles and gives me a vacant stare.

“Hold that thought,” I order as I pull up my jeans, and tuck myself in.

The knocking turns into pounding. I grit my teeth. I’m about to rev the shit out of whoever is out there. You don’t fucking interrupt a man mid-job. That’s just cruel.

I pull my black T-shirt on and stride towards the door that’s copping an absolute beating from the other side. I’m surprised it hasn’t come off its hinges. I swing the door open and am met with a narrow-eyed, none-too-pleased Soph. Her blonde hair is wild, and she’s puffing as if she’s out of breath.

“Finally!” she curses. “How long does it take to open the frickin’ door?”

“Give a man a break. What are you doin’ here? I thought —”

“Ah, hello! I’m moving in today? Thursday?”

“Shit, it’s Thursday?” Fuck, I was sure she said next Thursday, not this one.

“Yeah, it is, and if you bothered to pick up the fucking phone you would have known I was coming. I just had to finish work and then go grab my stuff, which was a fucking ordeal in itself.”

Well, aren’t you a giant ray of bloody sunshine?

“I didn’t hear the phone because I was busy.”

She huffs loudly and drops her shoulders. “You gonna let me in, or what?”

Obviously, she’s had a hell of a day. I look past her to see a couple of bags stacked on the landing. “You got much more than that?”

“I’ve got some boxes in the car, but this is pretty much it.”

A set of arms wrap around my waist, and a head rests between my shoulder blades.

I turn to face the dark-haired girl, Belinda or Brenda—I can’t fucking remember her name. I unlink her arms.

I don’t need her going and getting all handsy on me. Really, she was here for one thing, and one thing only. Which now isn’t gonna happen, because I’m as limp as a wet noodle, and I have this situation to deal with.

“You’d better go,” I say coolly.

“But I wasn’t finished?” she says, and bats her dark-painted eyelids.

“I’ll call you.” Which means I probably won’t. I swat her jean-clad arse and usher her outside the door.

“Fine,” she huffs, and glares at Soph as she awkwardly brushes past her and clip-clops down the stairwell in her heels. I’m impressed at the death stare that Soph shoots back at her.

I take a step back into the hall, and prop open the door with a wooden wedge.

“You owe me,” I say, clutching between my legs.

Her gaze travels down to my crotch, and she sniggers. “Ha. I don’t think so.”

I grumble as I take the large black duffle bag from her hand and walk towards the room, which, for the time being, will become hers. I flick the switch on the wall, lighting up the pitch-black room.

“Let’s get the stuff from your car, and then I need a drink.”

“You offering to share?”

I raise an eyebrow and look her over carefully. I bet she’s a pink girly drink kind of woman. “You drink tequila?”

“I drink whatever I can afford.”

“Tequila it is. My fuckin’ treat.”

“Then tequila is about to become the highlight of my day.”

My sentiments exactly.

****

SOPHIE

After a few trips up and down two flights of stairs, I’ve worked up a sweat.

“This bag weighs a tonne,” Rocco says, as he picks up the red backpack and makes his way to the bedroom. I follow close behind him with my last box. “What’s in here?”

“My prized sex toy collection, so treat with extreme care.”

He stops short and narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“No, you idiot. It’s textbooks.”

His face drops. “Oh.”

“My toys are in another bag.” I say and jut my chin in the direction of my belongings piled up in the corner.

He glances over my shoulder, and makes a ‘hmm’ noise. “Toys you use on other birds?”

“We’re really having this conversation the first night I move in?”

“What?” he says, with a shrug. “I’m fuckin’ curious is all.”

“Nope. We’re not having this conversation.”

“What you studying?” he asks, thankfully changing the topic. Thank God.

“Human Resource Management.”

“Huh. Like helping people get jobs and shit?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

I put down the box and take the backpack from him, and settle it at the foot of the bed. There’s a wistful look on Rocco’s face as he glances around the room.

“Guess this is yours now,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. What’s the deal with that?

“It’s only short term. I’ll give you the first two weeks’ rent on payday next week, if that’s okay?”

He stares blankly towards the window. “Sure.”

“So how much?” I ask.

“Sorry?” He walks backwards towards the door, and then shakes his head as if something is bugging him.