After, when she’s in the bathroom stealing my toothpaste and muttering something about the travesty of two-in-one shampoo, I’m sprawled on the bed, arms folded behind my head, trying to get my heart rate under control.
I’ve had flings. There’s been girls. But none of them evermade my chest feel like this. Like there’s a rope wound tight around my ribs every time she looks at me, and I’m half afraid it’ll snap, and half afraid itwon’t.
When she comes back, wearing nothing but a towel, I feel it again. That heavy, aching want that’s somehow got nothing to do with sex and everything to do withher.
She climbs into bed beside me, tucks herself under my arm like she’s been doing it forever.
“I hate this part,” she whispers.
“What part?”
“The leaving part.”
My chest tightens. “Then don’t.”
She shifts to look at me.
“Stay,” I say, brushing her hair off her face. “Just stay tonight. No sneaking out. No alarm. Just you and me.”
She bites her lip. “You’re dangerous, Diesel.” There’s a small giggle leaves her lips as her nose wrinkles, and my heart swells. I fucking love it when she calls me Diesel.
“Only to your professionalism.” I lean forward and nip the tip of her nose with me teeth before I plant a kiss on her cheek. She laughs against my neck. Before she snuggles down under the covers and stays.
In the morning, she’s still there. Still curled into my side, her body warm and soft against mine. The sun’s starting to break through the blinds, casting gold across her bare shoulder. She stirs a little, her hand sliding over my chest like it belongs there.
I kiss the top of her head and whisper, “Good morning, trouble.”
She groans. “It’s too early.”
“Want breakfast?” I ask as my fingers make slow steady trails up and down her bare back. It was just after four this morning when she lost the T-shirt she was wearing and we fell into another round of nude wrestling.
“Only if you make it naked.” She presses her face into the pillow, trying to hide her laughter.
“I’ll burn the house down.”
“I’ll take the risk.”
I grin into her hair.
Maybe this isn’t easy. Maybe it’s messy and complicated and comes with more risk than either of us signed up for.
But when she finally looks up at me, sleepy and beautiful and completely mine, I know I’m in it for the long haul.
All the way in.
CHAPTER FORTY
MIA
“You need to wax.” Sophie says it like she’s informing me of a tragic death.
I stare at her from my spot on the sofa, with a towel still wrapped around my damp hair. “Wow. That’s how we’re starting the day, is it?”
“You said ‘help me get ready for this date,’ not ‘validate my body hair choices.’”
“I didn’t say that either.” I fix her with a raised eyebrow stare.
“You implied it with your eyes.” She squints dramatically. “They screamed‘please make me smooth and irresistible to a hockey god.’”
