Focus, dumbass.
“Bels, you need to wake up,” I whisper, a little firmer.
She shifts, groggy, her fingers dragging across my stomach as her lashes flutter open. “Ryan?”
“Yeah, baby,” I say, my voice still rough with sleep. My hand settles on her hip without thinking. “You spent the night in my bed, remember?”
Her lips curve into a lazy smile, eyes still hazy. And for a second, I completely forget I’m supposed to be panicking. All I can think about is last night. How she sounded, how she felt, how perfect she was underneath me.
And how badly I want her again.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Ryan, you up?”
Nathan’s voice slices through the moment like a goddamn buzzsaw. Isabella’s eyes snap open, and her whole body stiffens.Before I can say a word, she’s bolts upright and scrambles out of bed.
My eyes follow her, taking in every inch of glowing skin, every curve, every second I’m not supposed to be enjoying right now.
She’s fucking stunning.
I blink hard, trying to reboot my brain. “Yeah—uh—just give me a sec!” I shout.
Fuck, I just want to enjoy this. I’ve never slept beside a girl before—especially in my own bed—and instead of having a lazy morning, soft kisses, and morning sex, I’m picking up her clothes off the floor and tossing them toward her.
She catches them and tugs her sweatshirt over her head, sliding into her shorts a second later. She bends to grab her sneakers, and I catch myself staring again, wanting to pull her back to me, to kiss her, to do everything I’m not supposed to.
“Are you naked or something?” Nathan calls through the door. “You know I’ve seen your junk more than I’d like to, right?”
I groan. “Just—fuck. Hang on.”
I dive for my sweats, yanking them on.
Then Isabella drops to her hands and knees and crawls under the bed.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“What do you think?” she hisses back, halfway under already.
Jesus. This is so fucked.
I don’t want her to hide. I want her right here, preferably back in my arms, definitely not on the ground and under my bed.
But if Nathan walks in and sees her in my room?
Yeah. Goodbye balls.
“What the hell are you doing in there?” Nathan grunts from outside the door.
I let out a breath when Isabella finally gets fully under my bed, squaring my shoulders. “I’m good. You can come in,” I say, forcing my voice to sound normal.
The door swings open, and Nathan steps in. I cross my arms and lean back against the dresser, trying to look like I’m not sweating bullets.
Does this look weird? It looks weird, right?
Nathan narrows his eyes at me. “Why are you acting weird?”
“I’m not,” I say, though I know I look as guilty as a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I sit on my bed, leaning back on the mattress. “What’s up?”
