Page 113 of Drowning Erin

When we wake I can’t see the clock, but I can tell by the full sunlight blazing in through the French doors that it’s not early—which isn’t all that surprising given how late Brendan kept me up. As much as I want to snuggle against him, I don’t. Harper’s roommate gets back today, and I have to get my stuff out of her room before I meet with the chancellor. Reluctantly, I slide one leg forward to climb out of bed when a hand lands on my hip like a vise.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Brendan asks, rolling over and dragging my hips against him. His erection presses into my back, and I feel that familiar longing in my gut, which is just ridiculous. Surely there’s some limit to the number of times you can have sex in a 12-hour period.

“I told Harper I’d be over there this morning to move my stuff into her room. I’m already late.”

“Move it here,” he says.

“I have no idea if I’ll get a job offer today, Brendan. It’s entirely possible that I won’t have money for my own place for months.”

“I don’t want you to get your own place,” he says, rolling me to face him. “I want you here.”

I feel joy flutter in my chest. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d accuse Brendan of moving too fast.

“Baby steps,” I tell him with a laugh. “Let’s see if you can get through 24 hours without a panic attack about feeling trapped.”

“I assure you there will be no panic attack. Come on, Erin. We were practically living together before Rob got back anyway. And I’ve spent weeks feeling sick every time I came home, knowing you wouldn’t be here. I never want to feel that way again.”

“I’ll bring a few of my things here.”

“All of them.”

“Some,” I counter.

“All.”

“Brendan, this is a negotiation. You’re supposed to move toward the center.”

“All,” he says, pulling me tighter.

* * *

An hour later, we appear at Harper’s place together. Harper, who took her lunch early to help, looks at our joined hands and raises a brow.

“You sure you want to do that, Brendan?” she asks. “Someone might see.”

He gives her half a grin. “Yeah, Harper, I’m sure. Thanks for your concern.”

We go to the bedroom, where I’ve stacked boxes along the wall on one side. It worked fine in here, but I can’t do that in a room I’m ostensibly sharing—although the odds of Harper or me ever spending the night here are slim.

“I’ll move this stuff into your room for now,” I tell her. “But I think I can probably drive it to Denver in a few days and store it at my parents’.”

“No, you won’t,” says Brendan. “It’s going to my place.”

“Some is going to your place,” I reply. “That’s what we agreed.”

“That is not what we agreed.” He grabs two boxes and moves toward the door.

Harper looks between the two of us, and for what must be the first time ever, she looks concerned.

“You’re not moving in with him,” she says, aghast. “You’ve only been single for, like, a day! You need to keep your options open.”

“She’s not keeping her options open, Harper!” shouts Brendan over his shoulder. “She has no options.”

“Erin,” she says quietly, her voice full of doom.

I smile. While I have no intention of moving all of my stuff to his place just yet, he’s really sort of right.

“I don’t want options,” I tell her. “I’ve got exactly what I want.”