“I really don’t want to be alone,” she adds, her voice so small.
“You don’t have to explain,” I say, moving to the bed and sitting back down.
But she’s scooching over, pulling the covers back. “You can get in the bed,” she says.
My eyes widen, and I hope she doesn’t notice in the darkness. But I do as she says, stiffly lying in the open spot beside her, pulling the covers over me until we’re both lying on our sides in the darkness, facing each other.
“Can I … hug you?” she asks.
“Of course.” The words barely make it past my lips, my heart beating so fast I know I won’t be able to fall asleep anytime soon.
Cora snuggles up to me, her arms snaking around me, her face once again buried in my chest. She takes a deep breath, and then I can practically feel the remnants of the dream leaving her mind as her body relaxes completely against me.
I stare into the blackness of the room, forcing myself to breathe evenly, not to move a muscle, not to move anything—although I’m worried Cora can feel the intense beating of my heart and there’s nothing I can do about that. The smell of her shampoo, something floral and citrusy, invades my nostrils, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Holy shit.
This might just be the most euphoric yet uncomfortable moment of my life. I could hold Cora like this for the rest of eternity—my stiff muscles be damned.
It isn’t long before Cora’s breathing slows, and her arm goes limp around me. It’s then that I take a moment to press a soft kiss to the top of her head, lingering just a bit longer than necessary to breathe in the scent of her. And then I settle in for a long night, knowing I probably won’t sleep but that nonetheless, I wish this moment would last forever.
Chapter thirteen
Cora
Iwakeuptothelack of an alarm, and I almost panic, thinking I must’ve slept through it—until I remember that today is Saturday. My eyes flutter closed again, but as they do, my senses begin to register a number of things.
I’m warm. Not necessarily uncomfortably so, but quite a bit warmer than I normally am when I wake up.
There is another person in bed with me, their arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against them.
My oversized t-shirt has tangled in the night and is now bunched up past my waist.
And there is a hand cupping my bare breast.
Well, maybe not theentiretyof my breast, but the underside of it. Most of it.
I immediately freeze, memories of last night hitting me like a truck. The dream, Theo waking me up, me asking him to stay.I asked him to stay. It seems like such an insanely inappropriaterequest, and yet I’d been so upset, so blinded by emotion, that I’d asked it anyway.
And he hadn’t hesitated at all. He’d climbed into bed with me, and then … I’d fallen asleep.
And now we’re tangled together, half naked, in the crisp, morning light.
His rough, calloused hand is hot against my skin, seemingly hotter the more awareness I put to it. I haven’t had anyone touch me … well,anywhere, in quite some time. And, fuck, it feels kind of nice.
But this is Theo.
Theo.
And I should really wake him up so we can get the hell out of this bed and try to avoid making this worse. I shift slightly, and in response, Theo’s hand flexes, his thumb moving and grazing the underside of my nipple.
I gasp quietly, heat pooling in my core.
He grumbles in his sleep. The most intensely masculine, husky sound I think I’ve ever heard.
Okay, no, no, no. We need to stop this.
I turn, rolling over so that I’m on my back now, his hand sliding away from my breast—thankfully. I’m about to sit up, but Theo’s arm is reaching around my body again, his hand pressing into the bare skin of lower back as he pulls me toward him. I yelp in surprise, facing him now, our bodies practically flush.
