She bumps her shoulder into mine. “You’re still an asshole, but less so.”
“Work in progress,” I say.
She yawns, then stands up and stretches, bones popping. “I should go.”
I don’t want her to leave. I want to say something—anything—to keep her here. Instead, I reach out and grab her wrist, gentle but firm.
“Stay,” I say.
She looks down at me, eyes wide.
“Just for a little longer,” I say. “Please.”
She nods, slow, and sits back down. This time, she doesn’t leave any space between us.
The room grows quiet again, but it’s not awkward. I close my eyes and breathe in her sweet candy scent.
She says, “You ever think about what comes next?”
I open my eyes. “Not really. I try not to.”
She leans her head on my shoulder, light as a cat. “I think about it. All the time.”
“Scared?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. Just… curious.”
I want to say something clever, but all the words have left me.
Instead, I put my hand over hers, and we sit there, watching movies all afternoon.
The weather finally breaks the next day. Sunlight slants through the windows, lighting the dust in the air like gold thread. The house is quieter than usual—Wyatt is out and Ranier’s on a call with the Council.
Emery shows up at my door, this time knocking twice, then leaning in like she’s ready to catch me in the act of doing something illicit. “Are you bored?”
“Always.”
She holds up a deck of cards and a bag of marshmallows. “Ever played strip poker with an omega before?”
I stare at her, then at the bag. “That’s not a thing.” Also,Is she actually serious?
My heartbeat quickens in my ears. Shecan’tbe serious, can she?
She shrugs. “It is now. Get dressed.”
Oh. She is.
This is such a change in our relationship that I’m not sure what to do. I sort of stare at her for a few moments too long and then laugh. And then immediately regret it as the pain lances through my side. “You’re a menace.”
Her scent is also stronger today. It hits me all at once instead of trickling into the room like mist. A wall of cotton candy sweetness so strong I can taste it on my tongue.
Not the only thing I’d like to taste on my tongue.
She grins. “You love it.”
I really fucking do.
We set up on the bed, cards dealt and rules made up on the fly. I lose the first round, then the second, and by the third I’m down to a single, embarrassing sock and my boxers. She’s still fully clothed, but her face is pink from laughing.
