He inhaled a slow, deep breath, and the arm around me tightened as he shifted to his side, pulling me closer. My head tucked into the crook of his neck as his free hand brushed my cheek and slid softly into my hair, holding me in place. The tenderness of it made a warmth bloom in my chest. Then, he dipped his head and brushed his lips against my forehead, and my heart stuttered.
I pulled back just enough to tilt my head to look at him, and his blue eyes met mine. “Morning,” I whispered.
“Morning,” he said, his voice carrying that sexy rasp from sleep when he spoke.
“Sleep okay?”
“Yeah,” he replied with a gentle nod.
He loosened his hold, raising his arms above his head to stretch the sleep from his body—the movement made every muscle in his broad chest and stomach ripple, and I couldn’t help but rake my eyes over every visible inch of him. He had no right to look so damn good.
“You’re staring.”
I huffed out a laugh, my cheeks heating slightly from him calling me out. “Can you blame me?”
Blake turned his head, lips curling into a sleepy smile that made his dimples peek out. Then his eyes scanned over me. I had the blanket covering my chest, one leg half-out, and my hair likely a tangled mess on the pillow. I saw something in his eyes—maybe appreciation—but his expression grew more serious when he looked at me again.
He cleared his throat. “About last night…”
Those words were like a bucket of ice water, abruptly shattering the moment.
“Don’t,” I said before letting out a breath and sitting up. “Don’t say it.”
I slipped out of bed, tugging the blanket with me and leaving him with the sheet. “Haley…” I didn’t respond as I pulled on my underwear, grabbed an oversized T-shirt from my drawer, and slipped it on before dropping the blanket. “Haley,” he said again, more sternly.
I turned to face him, reaching back to untuck my hair from the shirt. “Do you regret it?” I assumed that was part of whatever he was thinking.
“No.” He propped himself up on one arm, his eyes intent on mine. “No. I don’t.”
I stilled, heartbeat skittering. “Oh.” I truly hadn’t expected that, nor the faint hope it stirred inside me.
“This isn’t about regret. There’snoregret here. But it’s…” His voice trailed off, searching for the right words. “It’s…complicated. We both know that.”
“I know it is. But that doesn’t mean that we have to write it off just because there might be a few hurdles.”
“I’m glad you see the wrath of your brother as just a merehurdle,” he quipped.
At least he was attempting to make light of it. That was a good sign. Right? “Please,” I scoffed. “I stand by what I said that first time: Wes isn’t going to do shit to you.”
He gave me a look. “It’s not about himdoing somethingto me. And it’s notjustabout him.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, anxiety curdling under my skin as I ran my fingers through my hair. “Look, I know there are outside factors to consider. But I don’t want to pretend like it didn’t happen because of them. Because itdidhappen. We can’t let potential complications decide how we handle this—especially when we don’t even know if there’s really anything tohandleyet.”
“So, what? We just continue like this”—he gestured between us—“and hope no one finds out?”
“No,” I replied. “I’m not saying we should just start secretly fucking all the time.” Although—no, focus. “I’m just saying maybe we should give ourselves the chance to figure this out, but on our own, without bringing anything or anyone else into it. Just us. No one else. Not yet.”
“By doingwhat, exactly?”
“By doing exactly what we’ve been doing—except not fighting whatever this is. Just see what happens. Because after last night, you can’t honestly look me in the eyes and tell me there isn’tsomethingbetween us, Blake.”
He blew out a breath. “Haley, I meant what I said last night about the way you make me feel, but I–” He cut himself off, scrubbing a hand down his face, and when he looked at me again, something akin to affliction flickered in his eyes. “I don’t want you to expect–”
“I’m notexpectinganything,” I interrupted. “I’m merely suggesting that we stop thinking about things like work and Wes. What this is, nobody has to understand but you and me. Not yet. Not before we really know ourselves.”
He held my stare for a moment, and I could see his hesitancy. “By doing exactly what we have been,” he echoed.
“Yes. Except…maybe when we hang out outside of work…it can be somewhereotherthan the bar.”
