Something dawns on me as I hold her. Something I'm not ready to name but can't deny. This wasn't just sex. This was...different. Special in a way I haven't experienced before. The realization should terrify me, but instead, it settles into my chest like a certainty.
"What are you thinking?" she asks softly, fingers tracing patterns on my chest.
I could lie. Should keep things casual, remind us both this was just physical release. But I offer the truth instead.
"That I'm in trouble," I admit, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Because that was more than just sex for me."
She stiffens slightly in my arms before relaxing again. "For me too," she whispers.
The joint admission makes my heart flutter like a damn teenager, but I’m not sure either of us is ready to explore what it means. So, I pull her closer, letting the weight of her body ground me in this moment.
Six months, I remind myself. Our arrangement is for six months. Plenty of time to figure out what's happening between us. Plenty of time to determine if what I'm feeling is real or just the result of explosive chemistry.
As she drifts to sleep in my arms, her breathing deep and even against my chest, I'm faced with an uncomfortable truth. I've known Savannah Parker for all of three days, and I'm already feeling things I've never felt before.
Things I have no business feeling for a woman who's only with me to inherit a house.
Things that will make our inevitable separation in six months feel like having my heart ripped from my chest.
I'm so fucked.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SAVANNAH
Sunlight streams through unfamiliar curtains, warming my face and pulling me from sleep. For a moment, I'm disoriented. This isn't my bedroom. These aren't my sheets. And the solid wall of heat pressed against my back definitely isn't my stuffed bear.
Memories from last night flood back, bringing heat to my cheeks. Colt. His hands. His mouth. The things we did to each other until we collapsed in exhaustion.
This wasn't part of our arrangement. Sex complicates everything. But as his arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer in his sleep, regret is the furthest thing from my mind.
I lie still, savoring the moment before reality intrudes. His breathing is deep and even against my neck, his body curves protectively around mine. I never pegged myself for the little spoon type, but something about being wrapped in his strength feels right in ways I can't explain.
"I can feel you thinking," his voice rumbles against my ear, rough with sleep. "Too loud for this early."
I smile despite myself. "What time is it?"
"Too early." He presses a kiss to my shoulder. "Go back to sleep."
Instead, I roll over to face him, curious what morning Colt looks like. His hair is tousled, stubble darkening his jaw, eyes still heavy with sleep. He looks younger somehow. Softer around the edges.
"Staring is rude," he murmurs, though a smile tugs at his mouth.
"Just assessing the damage." I trace a fingertip along a scratch on his shoulder. My handiwork from when he drove me over the edge the second time.
"Worth every mark." His hand slides up my bare back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "You okay? With what happened?"
The genuine concern in his voice makes something flutter in my chest. "I'm good. You?"
"Better than good." His eyes search mine. "But we should talk about it."
Talk. We probably should, but before I can gather my thoughts, my phone chimes from somewhere on the floor.
Colt retrieves it, handing it to me with a raised eyebrow. "Popular this morning."
I check the screen and groan. "My father. He wants us at the house by noon to 'discuss this situation like adults.'"
"Bet those weren't his exact words."
