And he has a doorman. A guy named Clifford, who wears a fancy hat and has shiny shoes.
“Shit, he dresses nicer than me,” I murmur under my breath, but Coop still hears.
“Don’t be insecure about how you look. You’re my husband. You can dress however you want.”
When we arrive at his loft, I force my mouth to stay closed. I will not drool over this. But fuck me. It’s real nice, with high ceilings and an entire wall of windows. What had Coop thought when he saw my grimy place with the bowed-in walls and the smell of mold lingering in the carpet?
His place is all sleek floors and neutral colors with full views of the Pacific Ocean. It smells like fresh air and sea salt in here. His loft literally juts out over the water, and I can make out the sailboats and cargo ships on the horizon.
“Nice, right?” Coop asks, leaning his chin on my shoulder, one of his hands resting on my hip.
That touch. Fuck. I lean into it, needing it more than I need anything. It’s the one thing I’ve missed this week.
I told myself I didn’t need it, that this was fucking ridiculous, but all of those thoughts get tossed out the window at the feel of his hand on me.
I’ve lied to myself long enough. I should just admit what I am.
A needy, touch-starved bastard.
“You already know it’s nice,” I grumble, making sure not to melt into him too much. I don’t want him getting the wrong idea.
Like I actually want this and to please never stop.
My eyes take in the scene of endless water stretching out before us. And from here, I can hear the crashing of the waves through the glass. It’s loud, bigger, and more magnificent than I expected, and yet at the same time, it’s soothing.
I turn my gaze away from it and look around, noting that the living area is an open concept leading to a designer kitchen. Everything in here looks custom and expensive, and I worry I may ruin something and end up in even more debt to this guy. I bet that throw pillow costs more than my rent.
Coop chuckles when he sees the look on my face and then swats my ass. “Stop stressing yourself out. Come on. Let me show you our room.”
I roll my eyes because he knows we aren’t sharing a room or a bed, but he leads me to the master bedroom first anyways. And fuck me. It’s beautiful with French doors leading out to a large balcony. In the middle of the room is a king-size bed with far too many pillows. An enormous TV is bolted onto the wall opposite it. It’s luxurious. I run my fingers along the unmade bed and feel soft sheets caress my skin.
I bet he’s never bought a Walmart clearance bedding set in his entire life. I should show him what he’s missing. Or not missing, if I’m honest.
I smile at that thought as he leads me to a walk-in closet, and I scoff when I see that he’s made space for me inside of it. An entire row is empty, waiting to be filled.
“I didn’t realize how few clothes you’d actually have,” Coop says with a furrowed brow.
“Have you never met a straight guy in your life?”
“I have but they’re obviously much better dressed than you. Your clothing choices are appalling.”
“Fuck you,” I reply as I run a hand down my cheap white t-shirt. “I like how I dress. Now show me my actual room.”
Coop sighs but leads me down a hall to the guest room. It’s almost as big as the master, with an ensuite bathroom and views that overlook the ocean as well. I’m not going to be suffering here, that’s for sure.
“Your empire, Your Highness,” he says as he pulls open a closet, and I roll my suitcases into them. I’ll unpack later. Right now, I just want to sit and do nothing. A luxury I don’t often have the ability to partake in.
“Now, how about that dinner I promised you?” he says, linking his arm through mine. “Where do you want to go?”
“Go? Why not stay here? We could just eat on the balcony and watch the sunset.”
“So romantic,” he groans and then nods, pulling his phone out. “How about Thai? Or sushi? What do you want? You look like a barbecue ribs kind of guy.”
“I’ll do whatever. Anything is fine.”
Coop gets an evil glint in his eye. “Anything?”
“As long as it’s delicious.”