“Paisley,” I smirk. “Am I holding your special friend in my hand?”
She swipes the rubber tool from my grasp. “Wipe that amused grin from your lips. It’s a facial cleansing device.” Held an inch above the surface of her skin, she demonstrates by running it in concentric circles.
When I say nothing, she makes a face, daring me to challenge her. I hold up my hands in a show of surrender. She tosses the device into her bag and stomps from the bathroom.
I finish up, then follow her. All I want is to face-plant that giant bed Paisley is pulling back the covers on.
Alas. The already wilting and cracked plastic air mattress will be my bed.
All the lights in the room are off, save for an ambient glow from the nightstand lamp. The window is propped open, the soft cadence of the water filtering into the room.
Charcoal gray sheets cover the air mattress, and a pillow. Nudging the mattress with my foot, I say, “Those weren’t there when I went to take a shower.”
“The bedding fairy visited in your absence.” Paisley, content with her sheet arranging and pillow fluffing, climbs into that big, soft-looking bed. The night shirt rides up her thighs, exposing her shapely muscles, her creamy skin.
She has one leg poking out from the cover, and I swear that leg is begging for my fingertips to run up its length, my hands to knead the muscles, my lips to blaze a trail.
I could do it, right now. Lean over her where she lies, deliver that kiss I’ve promised her. She’s right. The clock is ticking.
But I want it to be perfect. The remainder of our touches this week will be for show, so this one that I get with her? I’m setting a bar, for whom I don’t know, but I have to be superior. I’m already her worst kiss. Now I need to be her best.
The air mattress makes awkward noises as I settle in. “Thanks, bedding fairy.”
“You’re welcome.” Paisley’s face appears over the edge of the bed. She’s frowning, her gaze running the length of the mattress. “I’m not certain that bed will hold up all night.”
“It’ll be fine,” I assure, the lie floating through my teeth. This bed is ancient, and likely has a number of fissures.
Paisley’s frown deepens. “If you wake up during the night and find yourself on the floor, you have my permission to come up here. But don’t be a hog,” she warns. “Stay on your side.”
I fold my pillow in half and blink up at her. “Parameters noted and accepted.”
She stretches across the nightstand and turns off the lamp. The room falls into darkness. “Good night, Wordsmith. Get your beauty sleep. Tomorrow, the real hoodwinking begins.”
“Sleep tight, Ace.”
CHAPTER 23
Paisley
Lie.That was my vibrator.
CHAPTER 24
Klein
A cocoon.
This bed is a collection of angel kisses, a cloud that?—
Oh shit.
Last night’s fantasy about being in this bed somehow became a reality at an unidentified point during the dark hours.
Orange blossoms.
A scent burned into my memory.
Paisley.
