12. Rosa

Ismiled politely at the movers as they walked past me and headed out of the house. They had arrived about two minutes after Malcom had come home with the prettiest arrangement of purple flowers in his hands.

For me.

The bed they delivered into Malcom's room was massive. I didn't know they made beds that big. The thing had to have been custom made. Not that the one he had in there hadn't been big to begin with; it had. I winced wondering if he got rid of it because I had thrown up in it. I noticed Mal had stopped sleeping in there after Casey made me sleep with him. The next night, I let Jett lead me into his room, where Mal had slept on the other side of me. The night after that, we snuggled in the movie room.

But I had been sleeping alone since my work week had ended and I'd gone back to my sister's couch in her basement. When I returned, I'd tried to act like the week before hadn't happened. Like those lines hadn't been crossed and we hadn't become a little too familiar, cozy, with one another.

But I caught myself failing at every turn.

I'd let them talk me into sitting down with them at breakfast or dinner. I'd even watched a movie with Jett the night before. I'd talked myself into putting some serious space between us the entire day. It wasn"t like we had done anything.

Nope.

All they did was take care of me. Watch over me. Hold me.

I shook the longing to be back in their arms. I had a plan. I was going to serve their dinner and head straight to my bedroom tonight. I was going to really put some space between us instead of lingering around them too long.

Not that they had suggested I sleep with them again either. Maybe it was just a moment? I shook the thought away and went into the kitchen to get things ready to set the table.

I had just reached for a plate from one of the cabinets when I felt his body heat cover my back. I didn't have to turn to know it was Malcom.

Jett and Casey had texted they would be late. In the moment, I hadn't really thought anything about it, but now I wondered if they had planned it.

"What do you need?" he asked. A big hand covered my right hip. I glanced over my shoulder and was at risk of melting when our gazes locked. I couldn't believe I used to find Mal's brown eyes cold.

Now that I thought about it, maybe they had been guarded and I had somehow misunderstood?

"What?" I found myself asking, completely lost in his chocolatey gaze. "What do you need me to reach for you?" His voice sounded deeper, thicker.

Instead of moving out of the way, I turned to face him completely. Our chests brushed against one another. His free hand moved up and tucked a short strand of my hair behind my ear. Our size difference was very clear in that position, and it didn't help how I felt about him. About them.

"You needed something from the cabinet?"

"Oh." I blinked but again didn't move. "A couple of bowls." He nodded, and I lost his gaze when he easily reached for the things I needed, setting them beside me on the kitchen counter.

"Do you need anything else?" It felt like a loaded question. I was tempted to ask for a kiss or a quickie. What is wrong with me? There was no way I could ask for that. Not when I felt the same way for all the three of them. There was no way I could choose between them.

"Umm, no. I was just going to serve your guys dinner and head to my room."

"There is actually a change of plans," he announced, and I blinked."

"There is?"

"I need your help."

"What? I mean—" I shook my head. "What do you need from me?" I could have sworn his warm gaze kicked up a couple of notches.

"Come on." He stepped back and extended his hand.

Where Casey had just reached and tangled our fingers together, Mal was silently asking me to reach for him. "We're going to be late."

"Late?" That had me moving. I turned the stove off and took the hand he offered. "Wait, are we leaving?"

"Really quick."

"Oh, but the food and?—"

"It will keep. Come on." He winked. For some reason, I followed him.

The man was dressed to the nines like he usually was when he went to the office. I, on the other hand, was in a pair of denim shorts that had seen better days and a black tank top with a bleach stain at the bottom left side of the hem. "Should I change?"

"Nope, you look perfect."

Instead of walking toward the garage where his car was, we went to the backyard and to the pool house. "Malcom?"

"You saw the bed that was delivered?"

"I did."

"I asked the guys to put these things in here, so we could have the space to choose."

"Space? To choose? To choose what?" I asked. Mal smiled when he looked back at me, and we didn't stop until we reached the pool house.

He opened and held the door for me. When I stepped in, my eyes widened.

"What…" I started to say and found myself smiling. "What is all this?" I asked even though it was pretty clear what it was.

"Bedding," he answered, like it wasn't obvious. I blinked.

"Wow," I whispered. The rich really lived differently. "Did you buy all these?" I asked as I walked toward them.

The bedding had been taken out of their packaging and set up in a way to see how the fitted sheets along with the pillow shams and comforter looked together. There were five different sets on display.

"If you don't like any of them, we can order something else."

"If I don't…" I frowned, "Mr.—"

"Are we really going to go back to that?" he cut me off with a challenging stare.

"Malcom," I corrected. "This is your bed we're talking about."

"But what would you pick?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. If this was your bed, which one would you choose?" He nodded and pointed at the fancy-looking bedding displayed on what looked like two long folding tables. I stepped forward. My fingers skimmed the material, and I stopped in my tracks.

"This is so soft," I whispered, mostly to myself, but I could feel his eyes like a touch. "But it"s probably a little too girly for you, huh?" I teased. The bedding was a soft lavender with delicate white flowers and tiny green leaves. It surprised me it was even a choice, but maybe he didn"t pick them?

"This feels very you." I grinned, walking toward the next set. It was dark and foreboding, but when my hands touched the material, they clenched the fabric and my eyes fluttered shut.

Something was wrong with me.

All I could think about was how it would feel to be consumed by him while I lay beneath him, those crazy soft, million-thread-count sheets under my bare overheated skin.

"You seem to like that one," his voice rasped, and when I opened my eyes, my head swung to check behind me. I could have sworn I'd felt him right there. Instead, he stood exactly where I had left him. His stare almost smoldered.

"They're nice," I whispered. "But then again, all of them are." I pointed. "For you, though, I would definitely pick this one." My hands stroked the soft material as I tried to bat away the dirty images floating through my head. His bed was huge before, but now it was even bigger. The four of us would fit in it perfectly, and there would be enough room to move about.

"You would, huh?" His lips twitched. "Which would you pick for yourself?" I glanced behind me. "Would it be the white one?" I laughed and shook my head.

"No," I quickly lied, then winced. "I mean, it's beautiful and probably my personal favorite but…" I found myself drifting toward it.

My hands touched it, and I had to bite back a moan. How could each set be softer than the last? I didn't even know fabrics that were so delicately detailed with embroidered flowers in the same white could be that smooth and soft yet lush.

"But what?" Malcom implored. The set was something out of a dream.

"But it's white." I sighed sadly. "White gets dirty fast," I mentioned, pretty sure I was reminding myself of that, and then I made a face. "I would ruin something like this."

"Ruin? Why?"

"Well, that time of the month and white bedding wouldn't mesh well," I explained, and it took me a moment to realize I had just started to talk about my period. To my boss! My face turned a deep red. "I mean?—"

"We could always switch it that week to the darker one," he suggested, not missing a beat and not blinking an eye at the mention of a woman's time of the month.

"Well, umm, is there anything you need?"

"For you to tell me why you're avoiding me."

"I'm not," I lied.

"You're running away right now."

"I just have work, and you don't pay me to?—

"You're officially off the clock." He crossed his arms. "Come swimming with me."

"What?" Swimming? With Malcom?

"It's a hot day, and you're sweating." My hand drifted up to the back of my neck. My hair was stuck to my skin with sweat.

"The pool house is just hot. It's been closed the whole day and?—"

"And it's time for us to go swimming."

"But dinner and?—"

"That can all wait."

"Malcom…"

"Please?" There was something about the way he said please that stopped me from arguing. When he kept talking, I knew it'd be impossible to say no. "I don't think I've had time to swim all summer." He frowned and looked over at the pristine pool that was all but calling our names. "You know, when we got home from our trip and I caught Coop's party going on, I was actually a little jealous." His words shocked me.

"Why?" I asked and took a step closer. There was something about the way he held his body that made me want to touch him. Without overthinking, I closed the space between us, and the palm of my hand touched his suit-jacket-covered back. "Why?" I asked again, and he cleared his throat.

"He was having fun."

"You have fun." He made a rough chuckled sound. I frowned. "The movie night was fun," I reminded him.

"You were sick," Malcom pointed out.

"Okay, but, umm, what about when you had to go to Japan last month?"

"I didn't see anything other than my hotel and the offices I went to visit."

"Oh, umm…" He turned, and the hint of sadness in his gaze made me move just a little closer. "Please?" he asked again. I swallowed and bit my bottom lip.

"I don't know if I have a swimsuit."

"What if you didn't have to worry about that?" My eyes widened, and he gave me an evil little grin. "I really wish I could read your thoughts."

"You're not the first one who"s mentioned that lately."

"I just meant, what if I took liberties?"

"Liberties?" I repeated. I felt like a parrot. He pointed toward one of the three bedrooms the pool house had.

"There's a suit in there for you."

"Oh." I wasn't sure if I was relieved or a little sad he wasn't suggesting we skinny dip. He's your boss! Of course, he's not suggesting you go skinny dipping, you perv! I scolded myself. "Okay. I'll go swimming." I had a feeling we were both surprised I'd agreed so easily.

"Great." He winked. "Go get dressed, and I will, too. Meet you back here in five?"

"Five? Five minutes?" How am I going to get ready in five minutes?

"Good." He smiled like he didn't notice the slight distress in my voice. He leaned down, and when his lips touched the front of my forehead, a small purr-like sound slipped past my lips. Before he could take his mouth off my forehead, I scurried away like a frightened little mouse. I stepped into the bedroom he had pointed at and shut the door.

Swimming?With Malcom?What am I doing? I wondered to myself.

I was supposed to be putting space between us, but instead, I was going to go swimming. There was no stopping the erratic way my heart thumped with excitement against my ribcage.

The whole thing was stupid.

I knew better.

Knowing that, I was going swimming with Malcom. I turned to get dressed and stopped in my tracks. The bathing suit on the bed was a black one-piece. It contrasted against the light blue bedding of the queen-sized guest bed.

A one-piece.

I could do that.

It wasn't like he had chosen anything indecent for me. It wasn't like I would have changed my mind if he had chosen some kind of itty-bitty bikini. I picked up the swimsuit and quickly got ready. I knew without looking down my body that the thing fit me like a glove. I had never been more thankful for the extra time I had taken in my sister's shower. Something had come over me this weekend to shave almost everything from my shoulders down. But as I glanced at my reflection in the full-size mirror that leaned against a wall, I was really freaking glad I had.

The man had really great taste if he had picked this out for me. Not to mention a great eye for sizing. The suit was high cut at the sides and back but high in the front.

If I tossed on my shorts, it would simply look like I was wearing a tank top.

I picked up my bottoms and pressed my lips together.

Maybe I should just go out there with the suit and only the suit on. He had chosen it for me. I wanted to show him what a great job he did. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated daddy. No! I shook my head. I couldn't think of him that way! In a moment of weakness, I slipped my shorts on and hurried out the door along with the towel he'd had ready for me on the bed.

Right or wrong, I was going to make it my mission to make sure Malcom remembered what having fun was like. One day, when I was long gone and out of their lives, he would remember me with a smile on his face, and hopefully, tonight would be one of many times he'd seek out the opportunity to have a good time.