“What do you want?” he asks.
“What every girl wants. The fairy tale.”
“So,a knight slaying dragons and rescuing the princesskinda shit.”
I shake my head. “Nope. I wanna be the hero on the back of a white horse.”
“Well, congratulations, Princess. Mission fucking accomplished—because you saved me.”
His words hit the target, and I melt into him. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, and his forehead comes to mine.
“You know I’ve never had a boy in my room before,” I say.
He shifts closer. “You don’t say. Should I leave?”
I should say yes.
But instead, I just stare at him, my heart beating too fast, my skin too aware of his heat.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “How quiet can you be?”
His free hand skates up my thigh, hesitating inches from the hem of the T-shirt I wore to bed.
“The question is, how quiet canyoube?”
Iwake up warm.
That’s the first thing I notice.
Not just the room—though the old farmhouse is comfortably heated—but the body pressed against mine.
Shelby is curled on her side, tucked perfectly into the hollow of my chest. My arm is wrapped around her waist, my hand resting just under the curve of her ribs. Her hair is wild.
Morning light barely peeks through the curtains, brushing her cheek and the bridge of her nose. Her lips are parted in sleep, soft and unguarded, nothing like the spicy woman who throws verbal daggers at me when she’s awake.
I should go before I get caught in her bed by her entire family.
That’s a responsible thought.
But I don’t move.
I lean down and press a gentle kiss into her hair, right at the crown of her head.
She stirs.
I smile against her. I was hoping for that.
I trail another kiss down, featherlight along her temple. Then her cheek. Then the corner of her mouth.
“Way …” she murmurs, half asleep.
“Morning, Stormy,” I whisper.
Her lashes flutter. One blue eye cracks open, then the other. For a split second, she looks confused.
“You’re still here.”
“Yep,” I say softly.
