“I don’t,” I mumble. “Now take these wretched things away before they turn me.”
Brinley laughs once more, walking over to my bedside. “Turn you, how?” she asks as she scoops Muffin up first.
“Into some creepy cat person, obviously,” I say.
“By the looks of it,” she says, “Moonshine’s already done that. I’ve never seen him get this close to anyone. Without digging his claws into them, that is. He likes you.”
“Yeah, right. He’s just using me for my warmth.”
“Maybe,” she allows. “C’mon, Moonshine. Let’s go.” Brinley hunches down and slides an arm under the cat’s body, but before she scoops him off the cot, she flips her palm, slides her hand along my ribs, and tickles me frantically with the tips of her fingers.
I jerk away from her prodding touch and laugh. “Hey, you’re not supposed to know I’m ticklish,” I say.
Brinley only grins, then scoops Moonshine off the cot and heads into the bedroom. Two strands of disappointment weave through my mind as I watch her place the animals on the king-sized bed. First, she gave up too quickly in the tickling game. I want her to come back and try again so I can reverse the game, pin her arms up over her head, and tickle her in return. The second is that I didn’t even get a goodnight kiss.
“Hey, Dawson,” Brinley says once her hands are free.
I prop myself onto an elbow. “Yeah?”
“Come here for a minute, will you?”
I like the sound of that. Maybe she’s planning to let me out of cot prison after all. Perhaps she plans to share the bed; a keep-hands-to-yourself situation.
“Of course.” I force myself to fling off the sheet lazily; like I’mnotwanting to tear into the room like the Tasmanian Devil in a cloud of smoke.
“How’d it go in there?” I don’t normally ask. There seems to be an unspoken understanding that what happens in the diary room stays in the diary room. It’s our safe space to speak candidly about where we’re at. I can tell by the spot of hesitation that flashes through her eyes that I caught her off-guard.
“Was fine.” With a pointed glance and the tilt of her head, she motions toward an empty corner of the room. The spot where my cot used to be until I dragged it into the loft. She heads in that direction, so I follow her, clueless as to what she could have in mind.
Brinley loops her fingers around my forearm and pulls me to the wall with her. She stays facing me, but rests one shoulder against the wall.
I glance behind me to where the cats chase one another on the bed. “You don’t want the kids to hear?” I say, guessing she’s just playing coy.
But she ignores the question, drops her gaze to the floor, and pins that full bottom lip of hers between her teeth.
A streak of uncomfortable heat surges through my chest.Is she leaving?What else could be so difficult to say? “Is everything okay?
Brinley shakes her head no, then lets out a nervous sounding laugh. “I mean yes,” she says, setting her eyes back on me.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” I hate even asking, but I’m worried my heart will explode if I don’t settle the worry in my head.
Brinley’s eyes widen in surprise. “No.”
She pins her lips closed and holds my gaze for a blink. It’s like she’s willing me to know her thoughts, which is something I can normally do a decent job of. But this is different. There is top-notch, bank-level security guarding the treasure of her thoughts right now.
Maybe she’s about to set boundaries, say we can’t kiss anymore or something. That would suck, but I’d take it over her leaving any day. I’m desperate to ease her discomfort, so I fall back on my trusty forte—humor.
“If you’re trying to ask me to sleep in your bed tonight,” I say, reaching up to snag a lock of her hair between my fingers. “I hate to say it, but I’m not that kinda guy.”
Brinley shakes her head, barely smiling at the remark. She shifts her weight and pulls in a breath. For a moment, I wonder if she’ll walk off and leave me standing here, but she doesn’t; she moves in instead, placing a hand on my outer shoulder and encouraging me to flatten my back against the wall.
When I do, she moves in even closer like she wants to trap me in place. Bold. Seductive.Whoa.
Relief rushes over me; she’s not leaving. She’s not setting boundaries. She’s coming onto me, and it is hot.
Her tangy sweet scent is everywhere. Her warmth is too. The combination teases my tired mind, and tempts my hungry flesh. I didn’t expect this to take a sensual turn, but I’m not about to stop it.
The building tension between us sparks flames in my lower belly, a pleasure that makes me smile as I lean back and wait.
