“Talk to her, Cullen.” Beck tore his gaze off Kenna’s knee and clapped Cullen on the shoulder. “Tell her she should move back home.”

A flicker of something passed over Cullen’s face. Huntley held her breath, trying to read him, to decipher what it was she had seen there in that split second.

“I don’t know,” Cullen answered slowly. “She should do what she wants. Do you want to move back home?” Air deflated from her lungs as Cullen lifted an eyebrow at her.

“Well, Hunt? What do you want to do?” Beck prodded.

She moistened her lips, her gaze stuck on Cullen. “I—I don’t know.”

Cullen’s gaze dropped to his cake, cutting another bite as if her answer didn’t matter one way or the other to him. “I guess you better decide that first.”

The next half hour passed in a miserable blur. What had she expected? For Cullen to declare himself? Announce that he loved her and needed her here? That kind of thing only happened in movies. Not. Her. Life.

After accepting two slices of chocolate cake to go, Beck and Kenna left.

Cullen made himself at home, busying himself in the kitchen, loading dishes into the dishwasher like it was any other night they were hanging out.

Why couldn’t they have this all the time? Well, with the added bonus of sex, of course.

She watched him for a moment, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter, admiring the way his jeans fit. God. How could she ever be in the same room with this man and not want to crawl inside him? Loading the last glass, he shut the dishwasher door and turned. His mouth curled up at one corner as he caught her watching him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she rejoined. “You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t even dirty the majority of them.”

“I don’t mind. And I fully intend to take some lasagna home with me.”

So he wouldn’t be staying the night then?

She moved into the living room and sank down on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her and willing the awkwardness between them to evaporate. She reached for the remote as he lowered beside her, glad to have something to occupy her hands.

“Want to watch some TV?” She tried not to stare at his muscled thighs or the way his shirt rested against his flat stomach and cut pecs. “I think there’s a Vikings marathon on.” She barely made it to the right channel before warm fingers circled her ankle.

She gasped and dropped the remote as he tugged her foot onto his lap. “What are you doing?” she choked.

“Rubbing your feet. You’ve been on them all day.”

She sighed in joy the moment his thumbs pushed down on the balls of her feet. Her body went limp and she melted into the couch. He was right. She had been on her feet all day. Even with the best shoes and massaging gel-cushioning inserts, her feet ached by the end of her shift. “That is amazing.”

His eyes smiled down at her as the heel of his hand glided along her arch, exerting the perfect amount of pressure. Her feet wept for joy, but that wasn’t the only part of her reacting. Pleasure radiated from her feet and traveled up her legs, settling between her thighs. A low throb pulsed there as he cupped her heel and ground down on the flesh with the pad of his thumb. Sensation shot to every nerve in her body.

“Ohhhh, your hands are amazing,” she moaned.

His grin deepened. “I’ve been told.”

She tossed one of the smaller couch cushions at his face. “I bet.”

They fell into companionable silence, the awkwardness of earlier gone. She turned her face into the couch to stifle another moan. When his hands glided up her calves and started working into the tense flesh, she was lost. Her knees turned to pudding, falling slightly open in invitation.

“Huntley?”

“Hmm?”

“We need to talk.”

She frowned. She didn’t want to talk. Not right now. She just wanted him to keep doing delicious things to her with his hands. Maybe he could add his mouth next. She wouldn’t be opposed to him unsnapping his jeans either and taking out—

“Huntley?” he pressed. “Last night …”

Dread pooled in her. Nothing good would follow those words, she was sure.

“It was good,” he continued, his thumb tracing circles on the inside of her leg. Her heart tripped inside her chest.

Good? She snorted. That’s all it was to him? She pulled her legs away, tucking her knees against her chest.

“But?” she said, her tone sharper than she intended. She propped her chin on her knees. “I can hear the ‘but’ in there. Is this where you let me down easy? You don’t have to do that, Cullen. I know you. I’m not one of your other women you have to evade.”

“Other women?” His gaze narrowed on her face, the softness of his mouth disappearing as his lips hardened into an unsmiling line. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re friends who just happened to sleep together. I get that. You don’t have to worry that I’ll want something more from you.”

He leaned back on the couch, tossing his arm along the back in a casual pose that felt anything but casual despite his calm tone. “You done?”

She nodded once, uncertain at his tone of voice.

He continued, “So that’s it then? We just had a romp in the sheets and it’s out of our system now?”

She nodded again, her uncertainty growing.

“I see,” he said, looking away, his gaze falling on the TV.

“We’re still friends. We’ll always be—”

“Friends,” he inserted, looking at her sharply. “That’s what you want?”

She held his gaze, no longer certain of anything. “You don’t want that?”

“You’re asking now, Huntley? Sounds like you have this all figured out. But hey, you’re moving back home. Right?” The words hung between them, a challenge waiting a response.

“Uh. I’m considering it.” What the hell was she saying? She wasn’t leaving. She liked her life here.

“Well, it makes sense to keep things casual. Just fucking for fucking’s sake.”

“Right,” she murmured, staring blindly at the TV, wondering why his words felt like such a slap to the face.

The ringtone of her phone jarred the silence between them. She grabbed it off the coffee table and answered it without looking to see who was calling, glad for the sudden distraction.

“Hey, Huntley, it’s Greg. How are you doing?”

Cullen tensed beside her and she knew he could hear Greg’s voice.

“Uh, fine. How are you?” He’d sent her a few texts since their coffee date. She replied to one or two but ignored most of them. She couldn’t even imagine seeing him again. Even if her heart wasn’t invested in Cullen, they weren’t a good match.

She snuck a glance at Cullen’s face, not hearing a word Greg was saying as she eyed him. His jaw was locked and his gaze drilled into her, bright and intense. There was a look in his eyes that reminded her of him at the coffeehouse when he had watched her with Greg. A dark little thrill raced through her as she remembered how that night had ended.

“Mm-hm,” she murmured to whatever Greg was saying. Something about another date.

Cullen inhaled sharply and she knew he could hear every word. She winced. God. She wasn’t trying to make him jealous. Truly. And he had no reason to feel jealous. They weren’t in an exclusive relationship. Her feminine hackles rose even as some other part of her wakened and trembled, craving his hands on her again. His body hard and strong, taking over hers and making her want things she never knew she wanted.

She gave her head a small shake and tightened her fingers around the phone, getting off on that glint in Cullen’s eyes that warned her he was close to losing it.

He stood from the couch and stopped before her, his belt buckle on level with her eyes. She gulped and flicked her gaze up to his face. Eyes like flint.

His hands circled her ankles and yanked her until she was flat on her back on the couch. She gasped into the phone.

“You okay, Huntley?” Greg asked into her ear.