“But this is new. We’re new. And I don’t want to rush this just because we’ve been circling each other for weeks.” His hands slid up to cup my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. “When we do this—and we’re going to do this, if you want—I want it to be because we’re both ready. Not because we got caught up in the moment.”
I stared at him. At the certainty in his face, the way he was looking at me like I was worth waiting for, even when his body was clearly screaming otherwise.
“You’re impossible,” I said.
“You like it.”
“I really do.” I leaned in and kissed him again—brief, sweet, a promise instead of a demand. Then I made myself climb off his lap, even though every nerve in my body protested. “Rain check?”
“Rain check.” His smile was strained but real. “When I’m not held together with ice packs and we’ve both had more than four hours of sleep.”
“Deal.”
We sat there for a moment, both of us breathing too hard, neither quite ready to move. Then Seth held out his hand.
“Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”
I let him pull me up, let him lead me toward the hallway. But instead of stopping at my door or heading to the couch, he kept walking toward his room.
“Seth—”
“Just sleep.” He turned to face me, and there was nothing but honesty in his expression. “That’s all. I just—” He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture almost shy. “I don’t want to be on opposite ends of the apartment tonight. Not after that.”
My heart was hammering again, but for different reasons now. “I’ve never— We haven’t?—”
“I know. And I’m not asking for anything else.” He stepped closer, took my hand again. “Just you. Next to me. That’s it.”
“Your ribs?—”
“Will be fine if you stay on my good side.” His mouth quirked. “I’ll even let you ice them again first if it makes you feel better.”
I should say no. Should maintain some kind of boundary, some kind of separation between what we’d just done and whatever came next. But standing here in the dim hallway with Seth’s hand warm in mine and his eyes soft on my face, I couldn’t remember why boundaries had seemed important.
“Okay,” I said. “But I’m re-icing those ribs. Nonnegotiable.”
“Bossy.”
“You like it.”
His smile was real this time, warm and unguarded. “I really do.”
We made it to his room with fresh ice packs and the last of the arnica cream. I made him lie still while I tended his injuries onemore time—but this time, when my hands smoothed over his bruised ribs, I let myself touch him the way I’d been wanting to. Gentle. Reverent. Like he was something precious instead of just something broken.
When I finished, I hesitated at the edge of the bed. Seth was watching me, patient as always, not pushing.
“I’ve never shared a bed with anyone,” I admitted. “Not like this.”
“We don’t have to?—”
“I want to.” The words surprised me, but they were true. “I’m just nervous. Which is stupid because we’ve slept on the couch together, and this is basically the same thing, except?—”
“Except it feels different because we’re choosing it.”
“Yeah.”
Seth shifted, making room for me on his good side. “Come here.”
I climbed in beside him, stiff and uncertain, not sure where to put my hands or how close was too close. Seth solved the problem by pulling me against him, my head on his chest, his arm wrapped around my shoulders.
