There’s a rustle, and then my oldest, softest oversized tee is being slipped over my head. I’m so grateful for the familiarity that I could cry. It hangs down past my hips when I’m standing, and here slumped on the floor, it pools in my lap. I do as he said and shimmy out of the bridesmaid dress. When I hand it to him, he gives me a pair of flannel pajama pants that I like to sleep in when the winter nights are chilly and the cold seeps in through the windows. Despite still being covered in drying sweat and having enough hairspray in my hair to kill the ozone layer, I feel cleaner, and it’s heavenly.
Grey watches me carefully, cataloging the way my body seems to relax. “You ready to try to move to your bed?”
I nod, and he helps me to my feet, snagging the trash can beside the toilet to bring with us.
It’s only a few steps to my bed, and he pulls back the light comforter for me to crawl into it. I feel light and heavy at the same time. Tired and buzzed. Like I’m in a dream and all my movements are slower than they should be, though they’re no less purposeful.
He’s backing away, but I reach out and snag his hand. It feels familiar beneath my own, and I like it. I’ve liked the way it’s felt against my skin tonight.
“Will you stay with me?”
He hesitates for a moment before nodding. Then he’s kicking off his shoes and climbing on top of the covers beside me.
“You can get under the blankets,” I say, but he shakes his head, and I think I hear him say he better not.
I don’t know what that means, not with the way everything is blurry and fuzzy at the edges, my consciousness pleasantly slipping away like the stars at dawn.
“Can we cuddle?” I whisper into the dark. I know the moment it’s out of my mouth that I really have had too much to drink. “I promise I won’t tell. I’m sure being labeled as a cuddler would damage your reputation.”
His laugh is a huff that slices the unfamiliar tension in the air. The comfort of it makes me slide further into sleep. “Sure, Fin.”
I push past the exhaustion and slide against the cool sheets until I meet his warm body. He’s still above the blankets, but I rest my head on his chest. I can feel his heart beating beneath my ear as I wrap my arm around his stomach.
He settles in the way I do, like we do this all the time. Maybe we should, because this isnice.
I shove that thought away. I know in the light of day, when I’m so hungover not even ibuprofen will help me, I won’t regret this. But I will know how silly the thought is. Grey is not the person I should be cuddling with. He’s not the person I should be doing anything but bickering with. He may be my brother’s best friend,an honorary family member, and one of the few people I can trust wholeheartedly, but he isn’t the relationship type. He isn’t long term, and I’m not going to make the mistake of being with someone who doesn’t want what I want ever again.
As I’m drifting off, I murmur into his chest. “I can’t believe you’re here taking care of me instead of trying to find someone at the wedding to take home. The whole town was there tonight.”
It’s a long time before he replies, so long that I must be asleep. Because there’s no way I heard him right. But I swear his whispers, “There’s only one woman I’ve ever wanted in Fontana Ridge, Finley.”
Finley is in mybed. A warm weight draped across my chest. The smell of her, like fresh-cut flowers, surrounds me. Strands of pale blond hair drape over my shoulders, fall in my face. The taste of her is on my tongue, and our legs are twisted together beneath the sheets.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I never thought I’d have.
She stirs beside me, all her curves pressing against my hard lines, and my breath hitches at the feel of her. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. When her hand slides down the planes of my stomach, a ring catches in the morning light. On her left hand. The one that says she’smine.
My heart races faster, pounding so hard I’m sure she can feel it against her cheek.
One moment, I’m staring at the slope of her nose, the freckles dusting her cheekbones, and the next, her eyes fasten on mine, the color of expensive whiskey. I’m drunk on the sight. Then she’s smiling at me, eyes half-closed, lips curling at the edges like a flower in bloom. It’s my favorite kind of smile, the sleepy onethat only I get to see. The barest curve of her mouth in the early morning sunshine. It’s like a kick straight to my chest, taking the breath out of me.
“Good morning,” she says, gaze tracing my face, as if memorizing it the way I do with hers.
I let my hands trail down her sides, my fingers hitting smooth skin where the hem of her tank top has ridden up. My fingers tighten on her hips, lifting her up until she’s straddling my waist, thighs hugging my ribs.
I let out a sigh at the feeling of her, half-relieved, half-tortured.
She’s stunning like this, sunlight glinting on her tanned skin and turning her golden everywhere. Her hair is a mess of tangles, probably from my hands last night, and there’s a hickey on her collarbone that makes my lips twitch with satisfaction. Her gaze follows the path of mine, and she lets out a huff of air, rolling her eyes.
“I’m going to have to wear high-neck shirts for a week.” She tries and fails to fix me with an annoyed stare.
I shake my head. “No, you won’t. I want everyone to see.”
Her laughter fills the space between us, and the sound makes happiness bubble inside me, warm and liquid and unlike anything I could have ever imagined for myself. I never thought I’d have her, and I certainly couldn’t have pictured it beingthisgood.
At my expression, her face softens, like it does when she’s reading a particularly beautiful moment in a book or watching an elderly couple on a date. When she sees something that makes her feel too much in all the best ways, like the emotion is overflowing out of her, unable to be contained.
She leans down, and my breath stalls in my lungs as she lines up so perfectly with me. My fingers tighten on her hips instinctively, still pressed beneath the hem of that damn tank. I want it off. I want all of her. Now.
