He narrowed his eyes on me, then crossed to the bed.
He grabbed the edge of the blanket, and I eyed his clothes. “Sleeping in jeans and a T-shirt?”
He frowned. “I don’t want to wake Avery by getting a pair of sweats.”
I wiggled until I was lying flat on my back, staring up at him. “Sleep in your underwear.”
I swore I heard him whimper.
A second later, he unzipped his jeans and shucked them to the floor, along with his shirt. The veins in his arms bulged, like he was restraining himself. One look at his body had me doing the same.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Beckham Bronson was a goddamn sex god.
Hard muscles rippled down his abdomen. A well-defined V disappeared into his boxers, along with a faint freckling of hair, where my eyes then met with a much-bigger-than-I-remembered imprint of his cock.
This time, I did squeal. Shutting my eyes, I quickly flipped onto my side so my back was to him. Not a moment passed before a hand was on my arm, tugging me back flat. My eyes opened to find Beckhamhovering over me.
“You think it’s fair you get to stand before me in your underwear and I can’t do the same?” he questioned.
“Completely fair,” I choked out. I was suffocating in memories of him naked with me.
He cocked his head. “What’s wrong, Parker?”
“Hot.” I swallowed, attempting to compose myself. “I’m hot.”
His gaze caught on my lips. I stopped breathing. “I thought you were a cold sleeper.”
“Not anymore,” I squeaked.
He was slowly getting closer, and I didn’t think he realized it. “We’re only going to sleep next to each other.”
I nodded quickly, briefly regretting not letting him sleep on the couch. I’d been a fool to think we could restrain ourselves in this bed. Especially in an environment we were all too comfortable in.
Together. Thinly clothed. Under the sheets.
“You’re going to stick to your side of the bed, and I’m going to stick to mine,” he went on.
Another nod.
“We can do that, right?”
“Right,” I agreed.
I did not, in fact, stick to my side of the bed.
Waking up wrapped around his body the next morning was proof of that.
14
BECKHAM
SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD
Early September in Idaho felt like an entirely different planet.
Trees would turn rich shades of red and orange, mixing with the wildflowers and tall grass. Everywhere I looked, a new color palette emerged, sucking the breath from my lungs and leaving me in a state of awe.
