Under His Billionaire Roof novel Chapter 5

Leighton spent the afternoon in her room, applying to more jobs and trying not to replay Noah's text message over and over in her head.

*They're idiots.*

Two words shouldn't matter this much.

Around five, her stomach reminded her she'd only eaten toast all day. She ventured downstairs, hoping to grab something quick and escape back to her room before anyone noticed.

The kitchen was occupied.

Noah stood at the island, going through a stack of papers. He'd showered since this morning. His hair was still damp, pushed back from his face. He wore a black t-shirt and jeans, barefoot again. She was starting to think he never wore shoes in the house.

He looked up when she entered. "Hey."

"Hi." She moved toward the fridge, trying to act casual. Like this morning hadn't happened. Like she hadn't been caught watching him work out like some kind of stalker.

"We need to talk."

She froze, her hand on the fridge door. "About what?"

"Ground rules."

"Oh." She turned to face him. "Okay."

He set down the papers and crossed his arms. "My office is off-limits. Always. Even if the door's open. Don't go in there unless I specifically invite you."

"I already apologized for that."

"I know. This is me making sure it doesn't happen again." His voice was firm. Professional. Like he was running a business meeting. "Second, the gym. Same rule. Don't come in while I'm working out."

Her face heated. "I wasn't trying to..."

"Third, my bedroom. That should be obvious, but I'm saying it anyway. Stay out."

"Are you done?" The words came out sharper than she intended.

His eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

"Are you done treating me like a child who doesn't know how to respect boundaries?"

"I'm establishing expectations."

"You're making a list of all the ways I'm not allowed to exist in your space." She crossed her own arms, mirroring his stance. "I get it. You don't want me here. You've made that pretty clear. But I'm not eight years old anymore, Noah. You don't need to lecture me about not touching your stuff or wandering into rooms I shouldn't."

Something flickered in his eyes. He pushed off the island and moved toward her, closing the distance between them. She held her ground, even though every instinct told her to step back.

He stopped a foot away. Near enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze.

"No," he said quietly. "You're not eight anymore."

The way he said it made her breath catch. His eyes traveled down her face, lingering on her mouth, then lower. Taking in the curve of her neck. The way her t-shirt fit. How her jeans hugged her hips.

When his gaze came back to hers, there was heat in it. Dark and dangerous.

"That's the problem," he added.

She couldn't speak. Couldn't think. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it.

"What's the problem?" she managed.

"You. Here. In my house." He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. "Chloe's best friend. Twenty-three years old. Completely off-limits."

"I didn't ask to be here."

"I know."

"And I'm not trying to... I don't..." She struggled to find words. "I'm just trying to stay out of your way until I can leave."

"That's another rule." His voice had an edge now. "Stop trying to be invisible. It's not working."

"What do you want from me?"

"I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face. "That's the problem. I don't know what I want, and that's not something I'm used to."

They stood there, the tension between them thick enough to cut. Leighton's skin felt too tight. Her mouth is too dry. She wanted to move closer and run away at the same time.

"For what it's worth," she said quietly, "I don't know what I want either."

His jaw clenched. "Yes, you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I see the way you look at me. Like I'm something you want but know you can't have." He leaned in slightly, and she caught the scent of his soap. "You've been looking at me like that since you were sixteen."

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