“Don’t you mean,howdo I want you?“ I tease, my voice thick with sexy innuendo.
“I don’t need to ask that question. From memory, you want me clinging to the side of the bed without my pillow, which has been donated to your comfort.”
“I’m not that bad,” I huff, although Hunter has years of us sleeping in the same bed as evidence to support him.
“Baby, you might have been on your best behavior so far, but we both know there’s a reason I always needed a spare pillow on my side of the bed.”
“I liked to smell you.”And I still do.
“What?”
“Truth. I could only get to sleep by smelling your pillow. That’s why I kept changing it around. You’d sleep with a pillow one night, and I’d steal it the next.”
“Did you…” Hunter starts before I cut him off.
“No. I never stole other pillows. Never wanted or needed to. So, unless I’ve regressed in my evolution as a woman …”
“I can always hope.” Hunter doesn’t seem worried as he grabs a spare pillow and tosses it next to his side of the bed.
At least there’s no suggestion of a pillow wall. Hunter strips down to his boxer shorts and a muscle tank top. The sight of him in red against his bronzed skin does nothing to calm my hormones and the only way I can stop from jumping his bones is to surround myself in his scent—courtesy of a borrowed T-shirt that I change into by showing him my back. I assume my bra being tossed across the room gets his attention, and when I bend over to take off my shoes, I hear his intake of air at the sight of the lace panties I purchased with his help at Sydney airport. If I feel affected by his near-nakedness, surely, he’s affected by mine?
When Hunter turns out the light, the room is bathed in romantic moonlight that I pretend to ignore while climbing under the sheet next to him.
“You okay?” Hunter asks, rolling towards me until our noses almost touch, his voice tender and hand along his side. My hands clasp on the pillow and I don’t know what else to do with them. If I drop them onto the mattress, they might touch him. I like to think we’ve moved past his doubts about my feelings beingrebound, but I need to hook him before reeling him in.
“Yes. You? You keep asking about me, but what about you?”
“Which photo did you post for today?” His change of subject tells me more than an answer could.
I show him my phone and we share a single pillow while I flick to the image. The photo is simple: two pairs of feet, mine withperfectly manicured toenails, and his, pointing together. The male legs didn’t name Hunter, but our family and friends could assume from the casual and relaxed pose.
My tag is subtle enough to inspire questions.
Relationship Detox:Will we or won’t he?
“Your mum hasn’t sent me her nightly text.” Hunter takes my hand, swirling his thumb across my palm in a way that sends tingles down to my core. Did he read the tagline?
“Maybe she isn’t worried anymore.”
“She should be.”
“Why?”
“Because.” I feel his weight shift subtly towards me and know he’s about to make a move.
“Night, Hunter.” In a deliberate ploy, I stop him before he can start anything. This time, Hunter needs to come to me. Hunter needs to fight for me and for us. I made the last move, and he rejected me. If this is going to happen, it has to be more than just his idea. I want him to fight for us in a way he never has. “Thank you for an amazing day.”
Despite my body crying out for him, I don’t try to kiss Hunter or even touch his fingers. No hug, and nothing he can reject. I roll over to my side of the bed and wait for him to relax, knowing he won’t sleep until he—yes.
Twenty-five minutes later, Hunter stretches out behind me. We could call it spooning if my legs were bent.
“Why can’t you fall asleep?” I ask innocently, reading each twitch and knowing how hard he’s fighting to begoodafter a day of flirting.
“You know why not.”
My fish is baited, now to slowly reel him in before he realizes he is on the hook. “What part of today felt like a fling? What part felt like something we’d toss away as soon as we get back to Sydney?”
“Nothing.”
