I frown up at him, and he plays with a lock of my hair, wrapping it around his fingers. "What if we called this whole thing off and you stayed here forever, instead?"
I chuckle, but he doesn't look like he's joking.
He kisses the knot between my brows and then pulls back. "Just a thought," he says, stretching before he throws the covers back and slides out of bed, giving me a full view of him in the dawn light. Every inch wrapped in dense, corded muscle. Every inch covered in ink.
It should be a crime for him to own any form of clothing.
I should start a petition.
"What are you thinking?" he asks with a coy smirk when he catches me staring.
"That I want to burn every piece of clothing you own."
His eyes spark, and he leans down to pull my chin up and press a hot kiss to my mouth. "The feeling's mutual, Ro."
Seven's phone buzzes in his pocket, and he doesn't even have to check it to know who it is. "That'll be Atty. We made him wait until the last day, but it's almost ten, and he's probably been waiting for us to get up since five."
I press my face into the pillow and groan.
Things have been a littleoffsince my admission. They all took it so much better than I thought they would, but still, there's a tension there that there wasn't before. A sort of caution. At least where Atticus and Elijah are concerned. Unless I'm reading into it too much.
It could be that they're trying not to push me. Or that they aren't quite sure how to comfort me, or whether I even want to be comforted.
I'm glad it's not the other way around. I thought I was the one who would need to be comfortingthem.Reassuringthem.
This, I can handle.
Especially since at least one of them seems to get it. Seven sees that I don't need or want coddling. I'm not interested in empty platitudes or reassurances they can't give.
I want to accept it and move past it. That's it.
"Come on." Seven throws back the covers. "Let's get you dressed."
I pull the covers back. "Do I have to?"
"If any of us are going to be able to focus on a single word Atticus says, then yes. You need clothes on. Actually, if Atticus is going to be able to speakat all, you need clothes on."
He gathers the discarded shirt and jeans from the floor and carries them to me. I clench my teeth against a devious smirk, but he catches it anyway.
"What's that face for?"
"Nothing," I say innocently.
I told him about the steam room with Atticus. I told Elijah, too. Ialsotold them that, even though I haven't fully forgiven Atticus, I'm trying to. I can tell he meant every word he said to me out there. I can tell he's sorry, and I believe him now when he says he'll never do it again.
But even without all that, there's one other variable I can't ignore. Iwanthim.
And not just physically.
I want what he can give me.
I've seen him with the guys. How fiercely he protects them and how he'd do anything for them. It's why he holds on so tightly to his control and comes off as the hard-ass Daddicus watching out for his family without compromise or apology even if I know now that there's something softer underneath.
I wantthat.
Not just that sort of fierce loyalty, but that little bit of softness he reserves only for those he trusts.
"That's not nothing, Ro." He smirks and tosses me my clothes. "You like the idea of driving Atty crazy, don't you?"
