“Yeah. Hours a day. I’ve hated every second of it. And, God, I miss eating cheese.” Tom looked at her expectantly, as though he were waiting for her permission. As if she’d ever tell anyone to give up cheese.
It was also none of her business what Tom did with his body, not just now but ever, so Rose shrugged. “I bet cheese misses you too.”
Apparently encouraged, Tom stepped into his boxers and concluded the display by pulling on a faded T-shirt advertising a Pokémon movie. Not one of Boyd’s cast-offs. She’d given it to him for Christmas their sophomore year.
How was she supposed to wipe his slate clean while still burdened with knowledge of where Tom’s T-shirts came from or the little shuffle he did with his feet when he was trying to remember where he’d left something? She knew too muchabout him. He knew too much about her. She could still recognize the charming man who’d left her. And she was still very much the same person who’d been so easy to leave.
Rose heard Tom puttering again in the bathroom. She knew what he was looking for.
“You can use my toothpaste if you didn’t bring any,” Rose said without turning over. “But not my toothbrush.”
“Too late,” he said around it.
10
It was after midnight, and they were both still awake. The cottage was tiny, and the quiet was echoing in contrast to the city noises Rose was accustomed to. She could hear Tom shifting on the love seats he’d pushed together every time he turned over or rearranged a pillow.
There were fifty different obstacles to sleep, even up in the luxurious king bed. Rose stared at the ceiling, wondering if she was being silly to enforce trivial social norms like not sharing a bed with the ex she hadn’t seen in a decade.
She didn’t do this. Nothing casual. Nothing without thinking about it first. Not without thinking where it might lead. But she wasn’t some kind of Victorian. She wouldn’t have made Adrian sleep on the love seats. What was she worried about? That Tom might think she was easy? He already knew the exact extent to which she was easy.
“Are you awake?” she whispered into the still, pink room.
“These are really small love seats,” Tom immediately said in a normal, though annoyed voice.
“Is there any chance you can keep your hands off my boobs if I let you sleep in the big bed?”
“No better than even odds.”
Rose huffed in amusement because at least he got points for honesty.
He must have sensed her hesitation, because he pleaded, “It’s a really big bed.” Before she responded to that, he was already standing up, the pillows she’d tossed at him clutched in one hand.
“You can sleep up here if you promise to be good,” she decided, though she thought she might have already lost control of the situation.
Tom climbed up the ladder one-handed, hauling the pillows back to the bed. He paused at the top to survey the situation, a sleek, satisfied expression evident on his features even in the dark.
“I can be good,” he assured her in a tone suggesting that this contract had very few covenants and definitions.Goodcould mean many things.
She politely withdrew to the far side of the mattress to make room, but Tom flipped the duvet down and walked on his knees into the center of the bed.
“Jesus, babe, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” he said, looking down at her sleepwear with heated appreciation.
Feeling both flattered and exposed, Rose tossed her head as though she’d expected his reaction.
It wasn’t lingerie, or what she thought of as lingerie, because it covered her from neck to knees. She owned really good lingerie, but it wasn’t for sleeping in. No, here she’d found a lineof satin pajama sets she liked and bought one in every color. She matched the decor in petal pink tonight, so she preened a bit, turning her head so that Tom could notice that the scrunchie she’d used to pull her hair back matched the pajamas. She tried not to wonder whether he was admiring the shape of her breasts through the thin fabric too, because that was out of her control.
“You always had the best little outfits,” Tom said contentedly as he dropped down next to her, making the mattress bounce under his weight. He was right next to her. Was he under the impression there might be spooning?
“You said you’d be good,” she whispered when he pulled the duvet over them both.
“I’m going to beverygood,” he whispered back.
He scooted closer so that his chest was pressed against her shoulder blades, the heat of his body barely dampened by one layer of thin cotton and another of satin.
“I, um, I meant it about the hands and the boobs,” Rose said when he cupped her upper arm, palm curled under the edge of her sleeve.
“I wouldnever,” he replied, but he curved his body around hers, the arches of his feet batting familiarly against the soles of her own, his breath so close she could feel it against her neck. It was too close. She wound against the pull of Tom’s body, heart rising and pounding in her throat.
