“Whatever you want.”
There’s a pause. Then she says it so quietly, I almost miss it.
“I wanna stay. I’m a little worried he’ll be at my place waiting for me.”
My hand slides up her back.
“Then stay.”
For the first time in my life—I shut my eyes with a woman still in my bed.
And I don’t want her to ever leave.
twenty-seven
Sawyer
Shit.
For a second, I forget where I am. Then I shift—and rememberexactlywhere I am.
And who I’m with.
And what we did.
Double shit.
I stay still, eyes open, my heart pounding like it’s trying to rat me out. Trouble’s behind me, still asleep—or pretending to be. His chest rises slow and even against my back, like this is just another morning for him. Like this meant something. But it didn’t. It can’t. Right?
I’ll be back in Chicago soon, miles away from this ranch. There’s no way I can let myself catch real feelings for him. The man can’t even say the word girlfriend.Pull it together, Sawyer.
I inch away from him, careful not to wake him. His hand slips off my hip and lands on the mattress with a quiet thud. My breath catches.
I don’t look back.
I shouldn’t look back.
...I look back.
Triple shit.
He’s lying there, one arm slung over his head, messy, dark hair falling over his forehead, a smudge of a bruise just below his collarbone where I think I might’ve kissed him a little too hard. And he’s wearing that calm, heartbreakingly handsome look that makes me want to either push him off the bed or crawl back under the covers and let him ruin me again.
Nope. Absolutely not. I am in control here. I sit up. Grab my clothes. Attempt to locate my spine.
He speaks without opening his eyes. “You sneaking out on me, Sunshine?”
Ugh. That voice. Gravel and sin.
I don’t turn around. “I have a thing.”
“A thing,” he repeats, like I’ve just said I’m late for an imaginary tea party. “Sounds important.”
“It is.”
There’s a pause. I hear the bedsheets shift.
“You forgot your shoes,” he says, and I glance down to see them still by the bed. Of course he noticed. He notices everything.
