“Owen...” She bit her lip harder, and I tracked the movement like a man hypnotized. “Are you sure? I could just... I don’t know, watch TV or something. I didn’t mean to…”
I didn’t let her finish.
I sat up, reached out, and grabbed a fistful of her shirt, tugging her toward me. She stumbled forward with a surprised squeak, and I used the momentum to pull her down onto the couch, catching her before she could overthink it.
“I’m sure,” I whispered. “Now shut up and let me hold you.”
She let out a breath that was half laugh, half something else. “So bossy.”
“You love it.”
“Maybe.”
But she was already settling against me, her back pressing into my chest, her body fitting against mine like she was designed to fit into this exact space. The couch was too narrow for two people, so there was no room to spread out. No buffer zone. Just her, soft and warm against me. I was trying very hard not to think about the fact that I was wearing nothing but boxer briefs, and she was pressed against every inch of me.
I pulled the blanket over both of us and wrapped my arm around her waist, tucking her closer. She made a small sound that vibrated through my chest.
“This is very friendly,” she murmured.
“I’m a friendly guy.”
“You keep saying that.” Her hand found mine under the blanket, her fingers threading through mine. “I’m starting to think it’s a lie.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Friendly guys don’t usually pull girls into their arms in the middle of the night.”
“Maybe I’m a new kind of friendly.”
She snorted. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is now.”
Silence settled over us, but it wasn’t awkward.
I could feel every point where our bodies connected. Her shoulder blades against my chest. Her ass nestled against my hips, which was becoming a problem I was going to have to very carefully not think about. Her bare legs tangled with mine, smooth skin against the rough hair of my calves.
She smelled like my body wash, and the realization sent a possessive thrill through me that I had absolutely no right to feel.
Her muscles slowly relaxed, the tension draining out of her inch by inch as the warmth of the blanket and my arms worked their magic.
“Sleep,” I murmured against her hair. “I’ve got you.”
“Mmm.” Her breathing was already slowing, evening out. “You’re very warm.”
“That’s my only redeeming quality.”
“Lies.” The word was barely audible, slurred with exhaustion. “You have at least two.”
“Only two?”
“Maybe three.” A pause. “On a good day.”
I smiled into her hair, my chest tight with something I couldn’t describe.
Her body went boneless against mine, her breathing deepening into the steady rhythm of sleep. I held perfectly still, afraid to move, afraid to break whatever spell had settled over us.
This was dangerous. But right now, in this moment, with Harlow’s heartbeat steady against my palm and her warmth seeping into my bones, it didn’t matter.
