“We might have cleaned up a little and put up some security cameras,” he admits.
My lips press together as I keep my gaze locked on his. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to be safe. I’m going to put the security app on your phone and you can have access to it. You can send it to Mesa too and make sure she’s cool with it. It’s just a precaution. We won't check them unless there’s an emergency.”
“Okay. I called her earlier to tell her what happened, but I’ll send her a text about the cameras tomorrow.”
“Good. Now come here.”
Slowly, I shake my head just to see what he’ll do. It’s the same game that we’ve played before. A stare down to see who gives in first. In a way, it’s satisfying for me, because I’ve tested his patience plenty of times and he still has yet to give up.
“At least open your robe if you’re just going to stand there,” he suggests with a gleam of lust in his eye.
I try with all my might to fight it and appear unfazed, but I can feel the flush in my cheeks. He remains in the same comfortable position but doesn’t take his eyes off of me.
“Stop playing and come here,” he growls. “Or I’ll pull this rope off my bedpost and make you.”
My eyes flick to the rope hanging on the corner of his bed. It’s faded and worn, but I have no doubt that it would do the trick. With one flick of his wrist, I’d be wrapped up in it and pulled where he wanted me. But he’s only joking, of course.
I’m proven wrong in the next moment. With a devilish grin, he bends his leg and leans his body to the side reaching for the rope. I don’t waste any time calling his bluff as I jump forward, giggling.
“No!” I squeal. “Don’t you dare.”
He falls to his back, laughing.
“Fine,” he mumbles as my knees hit the mattress and I crawl toward him. “There’s always next time.”
As I approach, he sits up and scoots back, then pats the spot on the bed that’s between his legs. I sit back on my knees when I’m facing him in the spot that he patted, but apparently, he had other ideas, because he places his hands on my shoulders and turns me away.
In one fell swoop, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me so that my back is against his front. With the feel ofhis warm body, the pillowy bedding, and the lights in the room down low . . . there isn’t a single shred of question or fight left in me. I exhale deeply, letting my full weight settle on top of his.
I turn my head to the side, and my cheek brushes against his shirt. It’s clean and soft, and my eyes close on their own accord from the comfort. His one arm remains around my waist and holds me tight enough that I wouldn’t be able to get up if I wanted to, but tender enough for me to breathe deeply into a state of calm.
When he demanded I come to bed, I envisioned him ripping my clothes off, a messy but tantalizing kiss, and maybe some more of those filthy words of his that I’ve missed. This is entirely different.
He’s content to hold me, and my weary mind and body drink in the feeling. But my heart is loving it even more.
In true form to ruin the moment, my unfiltered thoughts seep out without warning.
“Is it customary to be this intimate with your fake boyfriend?” I ask.
The deep rumble in his chest vibrates through my entire body as he laughs, and it puts me at ease. It didn’t anger him or ruin the moment, in fact, he brings his hand up to push the curls out of my face.
“It is now,” he says in a low voice, making chills run up my arms. “How are you feeling?”
“Still tired even though I did take a nap earlier,” I say, keeping my eyes closed and focusing on the light touch of his hand still running through my hair. “I’m not going to throw up right now if that’s what you mean.”
“Alright good,” he chuckles. “Because you’re one sick day away from me taking you to the hospital.”
“Ugh. Please don’t, I’m fine,” I protest. “It’s still pretty early, what did you want to do tonight?”
“Listen to you tell me about your day while I kiss your neck,” he says into my hair.
Sold.
“There’s not much to tell. Sleeping, a little case research, dodging calls from my mom,” I say in nothing more than a whisper because it’s difficult to catch a significant breath while his lips graze my skin.
At the mention of my mom, he pauses his open-mouthed kisses on my neck and leans forward to rest his chin on my shoulder.
