“It’s okay.” I stroke her hair from the side of her face. “Let’s get you to bed.” Her breath instantly deepens from the suggestion, her eyes fluttering closed. But as soon as I shift off the couch, bringing her up with me, I add, “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
She moves with me, my arm around her back to support her weight as we walk down the hallway together. “I’m so sleepy.” Her words are slurred, her mind groggy when she speaks. Her body is limp, but with lackluster effort, she keeps her head upright.
“I know. We’ll get you to bed.” As soon as I get her to the bed, she crawls in. I start to tuck her in, bringing the blanket to cover her shoulders like I do this all the time.I don’t.I don’t have women over to tuck into my bed after . . . after our activities. Women don’t stay the night. This is my domain, and I like it that way.
But something about Delaney . . . is growing on me.
Lying on her side facing me, she opens her eyes once more and smiles when she sees me there. “You’re really handsome, you know that? Even with the black eye.”
I chuckle quietly. “I like hearing it from you.” I leandown to kiss her head, and whisper, “You’re beautiful, Delaney.” I don’t say it to return the favor. I say it because it felt like something I should admit to her. She reaches up to touch my face, but her lids are too heavy to keep open.
I start to wonder if these newfound feelings are real. They could be. It’s been so long since I've cared for someone that I need to sit with the emotion a bit longer. It could just be because the look she had in her eyes was genuine when she said it. She sounded as honest as I was. The truth revealed. With her under the spell of exhaustion, I should leave, but my feet don’t go anywhere. Instead, I kneel beside the bed, admiring the plush of her lips and the slope of her nose. She looks so peaceful, like an angel in my bed.
But the devil on my shoulder wins out . . .“Delaney?”
“Hmm?” Her eyes never open as the hum of her response is heard.
“What’s your last name?”
The slightest of grins curves the corners of her mouth, and she replies, “Bayetti.”
Now that’s information I can use. I kiss her on the forehead and whisper, “Good night.”
CHAPTER 16
Delaney
“Jesus, Warner!”I try breathing through the terror of waking up to him hovering over me like a murderer. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing if you’re still breathing.” He falls back to his side of the bed and leans against the headboard—shirtless, I might add, and laughing.Jerk.
“Apparently, it’s funny to you that my heart just flew out the window.”
“Is that where it went?” Since I just woke up, maybe I’m reading too much into his deadpan comment.
With my heart still beating out of my chest, I roll away from him and close my eyes, hoping to regulate my entire body back to what it was before Warner Landers entered my life.Or did I enter his?Doesn’t matter. We’re stuck in each other’s lives now. I’m starting to believe it will be for life at this rate.
His big paw of a hand wraps over my arm and rocks me back and forth. “Come on, Delaney. Don’t be mad.”
“Mad?” I close my eyes, so I don’t roll them. “I’m not mad. I’m trying to figure out what I did to deserve this hell.” Bet he’s smirking. I roll just enough to catch a glimpse of his face.Yep.Called it. “You find this so funny, don’t you?”
I’m not in the mood for this, at least not yet. It’s too early to remember the role I’m supposed to be playing, to have patience for this unreservedly fiend of a man, and morning ruiner to boot.
“Is it wrong if I do?” His slurping coffee injects an extra dose of aggravation into my bad mood. It’s like a cherry on top of this affront.
I push up and angle back, resting my weight on my hand. “It is wrong and dangerous if you want to live to see lunch.”
“Mornings got you down, sweetheart. You were just a sleepy little angel last night, and now, you wake up as a bear. Shitty sleep?”
“Nightmares all night.” I flip the covers from my body and swing my legs out. As soon as I touch down on the floor, I adjust the strap that had fallen off my shoulder, wanting to expose me to him.Traitor. “I dreamed there was this guy who thought he was the bee’s knees, but really he was just a coffee-slurping creeper who wanted to kill me.” I turn on my heel, the hair fallen out of my scrunchie swinging, and march into the bathroom.
Just before I close the door, he says, “I don’t want to kill you, Delaney.” Why does that not sound like the end of what he wants to say?
Piquing my interest, I hit him with a glare. “What do you want to do with me?” I know better, but setting the trap and watching him get caught is a new favorite pastime of mine. I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot to add drama as I wait for him to react.
His eyes still hold a warmth when he stares back into mine, and asks, “Have you been initiated into the Mile High Club?” But then he had to open his mouth and ruin it.
I slam the door closed and start the shower. If I weren’t already in a bad mood, I might allow myself to realize I came in here like this ismybathroom, started the shower like I do it every morning, and walked around this apartment like I didn’t barge into his life without his permission. It’s not my life or my place. I can only imagine how this would look to the outside world. If my parents knew I was sleeping, as in actual sleep, with the man who is taking over the building and evicting us and the restaurant. I can’t let the shame of the act change the means to the end.
