“Will I what?”
“Will you sleep with me tonight?”
The request reverberates all the way down to my bones. Not an invitation to take more, not even about sex, it’s the need for presence.
“Yeah,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her jaw. “I’ll sleep with you.”
Her shoulders loosen, the tiniest shift, and I know she needed to hear it said out loud. I rinse the cloth, wring it dry, and we both brush our teeth, shoulders knocking.
When we leave the bathroom, Nick Fury is curled in his bed, already snoozing, so I lace my fingers through hers and don’t let go, not even while I’m kicking my shoes off by the door. I pull her to me, pressing a gentle kiss to her mouth, letting our lips stay connected on a deep inhale. Then I strip down to my underwear, and she watches every movement. I know she can probably see my cock through my tight-fitting boxers, but I laugh when her eyes don’t shift away.
“Just ignore it, it’ll go down.”
She bursts into a short cackle as she undresses, too. “Just what every girl wants to hear when a boy is about to get into bed with them.”
I pull the covers back and gesture for her to climb in next to me. She does, curling on her side, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes as if waiting to see if I’ll keep my word. Instead of sliding in behind her, I stretch out on my back, close enough that our arms touch from shoulder to wrist.
The silence feels different here. She shifts, inching closer until her head rests against my chest, hair still carrying the faint tangof paint and my soap from the cloth. My heart stutters at the weight of her there, the trust threaded into something so simple.
“Jay?”
“Hm?”
“Will you hold me?”
Of all the things she could’ve asked for tonight, she just wants my arms around her.
“Yeah,” I murmur, slipping my arm beneath her shoulders and pulling her closer until she’s tucked fully against me.
She exhales like she’s been holding that request in all night, like asking for comfort was somehow harder than letting me strip her bare.
Her body molds to mine, soft where I’m tense, and I know she can feel how wired I still am, how badly I want her.
“He’s insistent, hm?” she mumbles.
“He has to deal.”
I focus on the details to keep from drowning in how much I want her—her steady breaths, the way her hand curls in the fabric of the sheets, the warmth of her thigh brushing mine. It’s nothing like the frantic want from earlier, but it’s just as consuming.
“You’re warm,” she mumbles, already half-asleep.
I lay there, every ache and want muted by the quiet of her sleep-tugged breathing, and let the small acts of staying be enough: the warmth of my body at her back, my thumb rubbing the pad of her hand, the steadying pressure of my arm across her ribs.
And I fall asleep.
Chapter twenty-nine
Liv
Iwaketoawarm, cozy feeling surrounding me, as though I’ve been wrapped in the world’s warmest blanket.
The blanket hums behind me, and I suddenly remember everything.
Every little touch. Gasp. Moan. Strike of pleasure that he wrung out of my body. All without ever hinting that he needed relief, too.
Jay is truly the most gentlemanly man I’ve ever had in my bed. If he’s not careful, a girl could get used to this.
I try rolling carefully, slow enough not to wake him right away, but the second my movement shifts the mattress, his arm tightens instinctively around my waist, pulling me back to him. The reflex is protective, possessive in a way that makes my stomach dip. His face is buried in my hair, his breath warm against the back of my neck.
