My eyes opened just a little, to the sight of two familiar blue eyes staring down at me. He was leaning over me, one hand at the neck of the couch above my head, the other still below my ear, playing with my hair. At first, his words didn't ring a bell. But then, it slammed like a goddamn truck.

"What?" Did I hear that right?

"You can live here, Maeve. Of course, if you want to." His eyes were soft, and so was his voice.

My brows furrowed, and I slowly straightened on the seat. He didn't move back though, or shift, and now his face was so close to mine, that I could just lean forward and seal our lips together.

But the urge to get away was more urgent. I shook my head softly.

"I can't." My eyes left his and fell down somewhere on the rug beneath the coffee table. I could feel his eyes on me, burning into the side of my face.

What is going on in his brain?

"Do you not like it? Is that why?" His voice, the gentle tone, made my jaws click together. And as much as I told myself it was something else, the only word that resembled that voice was pity. Ian shifted, moving closer, his knees brushing mine in the process. "Say something."

I shook my head again, not finding the right words. "I...I don't want favors from anyone, Ian." I shifted in my place. "The weight of owing anyone anything is what I constantly try to avoid." I internally winced when my voice decided to falter at the very last word. I cleared my throat, and lined my spine, bringing my eyes back on him. "No favors taken. Simple as that."

Ian studied my face and his jaws twitched. He looked deep in thoughts, because for a few seconds, he just stared at me, without uttering a single word. Guilt rose in my chest. My choice of words may not have been exactly apt for the way too generous gesture he was offering.

But at least I didn't lie.

"No favors taken," Ian repeated my words with a little nod, warm breath blowing too close to my face. "How about doing someone else a favor?"

I blinked confusedly at his question. Somewhere deep down, I knew what he was trying to say, but I couldn't put a finger on it.

"I don't understand."

Ian blinked, then took a deep breath, leaning away to rest his elbows on his knees. I had this feeling that whatever he was going to say would be difficult on my ears, because he looked tensed.

"I didn't come here alone all the time." He said, staring far beyond the wall, where his eyes were trained. I immediately knew what he meant. And the scattered dots started rearranging themselves in order on their own. "Olivia always insisted on spending the weekend here with me. And I used to be really excited to come here, until recently..." He licked his lips, slowly frowning at whatever memory was playing in his head. And it was in pure instinct that I reached forward and placed a hand against his shoulder. A reassuring touch that visibly pulled him back to the present.

Ian turned his head, just enough to give me a side glance. "It's not a favor on you, Maeve. I'm asking you for a favor."

I knew that now. This house probably held memories he didn't want to remember. And by seeing how clean and neat the house was, it seemed like he had been just maintaining and not using it. I knew what it felt like, because I could not live with Michael after I left his mansion, how much ever I tried to convince myself to go back.

Sometimes, places didn't just hold the memories, they held the hurt, the regret, or maybe even the pain that those moments brought.

I felt Ian shifting again, and he straightened on the couch, a little taller than me even while sitting. "I was planning on selling it anyways. But as you can see—" he motioned his hand around the house. "—it's too good to give away."

I nodded, again, in pure instinct. Ian's hand that was resting on his knee, unconsciously brushed against mine. And a delicious shock ran through me. I tried to ignore it.

"Please do me this favor." He said, and his hand brushed my knee again, not so innocently this time. "It will be a favor on me if you will have this place, rather than anyone else. I want you to have it."

His words, his voice, and the steady unwavering stare held me transfixed. I needed to say something but my mouth was dry. My tongue tipped out and ran along the seam of my lower lips, wetting them in the process. It wasn't meant to spark anything, but I think, it did. Ian's eyes switched down to my lips, pupils dilating and almost engulfing all the blues under its shield. His throat moved with a swallow. His hand brushed my knee, again, and again. My hand which was on his shoulder, trailed down, falling to his forearm.

All the noises blurred out into white noises, the only sound audible being our breathing, in sync, but still unsteady.

Ian's hand moved over my knee, and he cupped it with his big, warm palm. Then squeezed.

Holy shit.

My legs pressed together as that squeeze clenched something else deep inside me, coiling and twisting and making me shudder against that little action. I was barely aware when my eyes closed, and when I leaned forward. My heart climbed its way up my chest, and started beating in my ear.

Ian moved, too, leaning forward, his hand trailing up from my knee to over my thigh, under the skirt.

By the time his breath fanned over my lips, I was panting like I ran a marathon. His proximity, the hand trailing up my thigh, and the minty breath mingling with mine was making me dizzy. My heart was running a hundred miles per second, contradicting my limbs which refused to move.

"Maeve," my name slipped from his lips, hit mine, and bounced right back. My fingers tightened on his arm, and I had to dig my nails into his skin to keep my control which was fraying. His hand cupped my face, fingers splayed across my jaws and neck. "I need to kiss you." He said, and the words sank into my whole body, all warm and fuzzy.

The need was so clear in his voice, resembling mine, but stronger. Almost like he was in pain. In physical agony. Something contracted in my chest, as Ian's lips, ever so softly, brushed against mine. Just a simple graze, with parted lips, sharing the same breath.

There were bells ringing in my ear. Too loudly. Almost disturbing me. Again, and again.

Wait—

"Ian," my hand found his on my thigh, and I squeezed it to bring his attention back to the present. He stilled, sucking in a breath. "Your phone."

He seemed to have just noticed the ringing of his phone and pressed his forehead against mine, cursing under his breath, the words warm and ticklish against my lips.

Swiftly, he withdrew his hand from my face, straightened from the couch and marched towards the double door windows, taking out his phone and pressing it to his ears in the process.

"What?" He snapped at the phone, other hand coming up to rest on his hips. He looked so stiff and rigid, like a wall of bricks.

I tried to stifle a laugh, but failed miserably, as a chuckle broke through me.

Ian swirled around and fixed me with a pointed look. "No, not tomorrow." He said into the phone, eyes still locked on me. The playful smile disappeared from my face and heat crawled up my body again. I quickly broke the eye contact and stood up from the couch, making my way toward the window. Ian's gaze followed every step I took, and his body turned to keep tracing my movement. As I walked past him, the window seat was just inviting enough for me, so I sat myself on it. And as soon as I did, all thoughts left my mind, only one fact lingering around.

"This seat is indeed made for my ass."

My eyes first widened, then snapped to Ian who arched an eyebrow at me.

Shit. I didn't mean to say that out loud.

I turned in my seat, facing the window, away from his amused expression. We almost kissed, and now I was amusing him. I was surprised how the atmosphere wasn't at all awkward. A smile formed on my face at the realization.

"I'm busy on Thursday as well." Ian's voice echoed behind me, closer than a few seconds ago. I didn't need to turn around to know he was standing behind me. I could feel his presence. All warm, and comforting and...and what?

A soft touch at my nape made me shudder, as Ian twirled a strand of my hair between his fingers, knuckles grazing my bare shoulder. I had never been more grateful for an off-the-shoulder blouse.

"We'll see. Next week. Night." I hardly heard the last word as his fingers slipped into my hair. My teeth clamped down on my lip to stifle the unholy sound which was haunting to slip out as I leaned back into his hand, while his fingers kneaded my scruff. Whatever he was doing, my body was responding positively to it.

"Maeve," He called me, voice soft, somewhat ticklish on my skin although it was not anywhere close to my skin. "Will you stay here?" His hand left my neck and I was almost immediately disappointed. But the disappointment faded quickly, when the same hand slid across my shoulder blade, moving my hair away, over to the other shoulder. And then, I felt his breath on my neck. "Help me out, Maeve. Please."

His lips grazed my skin, barely touching. A vague thought rose through the steam forming in my brain, that he was talking about something else.

Despite the way my breath came out short and urgent, and the way my hands clenched on my sides into trembling fists, some words found their way out of my lips. "I don't...I don't understand why you're—"

"That hotel is not safe for you." I heard the frown in his tone, but it betrayed the way his lips grazed back and forth along my shoulder blade, up my neck, and repeated.

But again, they were barely touching.

"How do you know?" I tilted my head, giving him easier excess to tease my skin.

"I know." His lips moved to the skin below my ear, and he blew, making a shiver visibly ripple through me. "Last Sunday, when you were drunk and passed out, I carried you to your hotel room. They gave me your room keys without even asking who the fuck I was." The last sentence rumbled from him into a muffled growl.

I didn't ever imagine it would be so hot to hear a man curse. But hell, he wasn't just any man. He was Dr Ian Nathaniel Cole. A sexy psychiatrist. My psychiatrist.

"Please Maeve. Stay here. Do it for me. Please," His voice was so close to breaking that I was afraid he would get down on his knees any second and start begging. And as much as I would have appreciated that sight, I didn't want the reason to be this.

He did have a point though. So, I did the right thing. Right to him, and right to me.

"Okay," I breathed out the little word of approval, and Ian's lips halted below my ear. He pulled away just a little, so that his breath was still persistent on my skin, but eyes settled on the side of my face.

"Really?" Disbelief was evident in his voice as he asked. And I wanted to smile.

I nodded, and slowly tilting my head to look at him. "Yes. But I have a condition."

The surprised look disappeared from his face and was replaced by a knowing smile. "Of course you do." He tucked an escaped strand of hair behind my ear. "Let's hear it."

I was having difficulty breathing. He was so close. So warm. So gentle. What was wrong with him? Or was something wrong with me?

"Maeve?" He urged, making me blink.

"Yes," I whispered softly, afraid that if I moved even an inch, our lips would collide. "I am willing to live here as long as you let me pay a monthly rent." Ian's brows ceased ever so slightly, a questioning look thrown my way, and I was quick to elaborate. "I am trying to find a job. And I'm pretty sure I'll get one soon. So, I'm ready to live here, if you let me pay for it. Then...it's not really a favor, is it?" My face twisted into a confused look at the last question, and I watched Ian's expression morph into an amused smile.

He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what I just said, then brushed a thumb across my cheekbone, bringing his eyes back to mine.

"Alright. No favors taken." His voice softened. It brought a smile to my lips. "But," The smile faded. "You're moving in tomorrow."