Troy rolls over so he can see my face. “Why?”
“Because if I do, I’m afraid I’ll wake up and tonight will have been a dream,” I confess.
Troy raises up on an elbow and hooks an arm around my body, so he’s looming over me. “Then tomorrow, we’ll make a whole new dream.”
He brushes his lips against mine before smiling down at me. Cupping his cheeks, I realize we can take our time building whatever this is.
Dreams can be that simple.
But simple dreams went away when men built a computer in their parent’s garage. In the world of electronics, time is a luxury that doesn’t last.
It’s not a question of if; it’s a question of when.
27
EXPLOSIVE PLAY – GAIN OF GREATER THAN 20 YARDS.
The light of the sun pouring through the shutters lets me know it’s the morning after. I’m grateful I can feel the warmth of her body curled into mine. My nose is buried in the scent of her curls that are fanned across my pillow.
Maya is half buried in the covers she fought me over with the strength of a linebacker. I grin when I think about the number oftimes she yanked them off my body to wrap them around herself like a burrito only to fling them off when she was too warm.
Apparently, she found her happy medium. She tucked one hand beneath her cheek, parted her lips in a smile that the Mona Lisa would envy, revealing womanly satisfaction and intrigue.
Lying back, I throw one arm over my forehead and embrace my fate.
I’m completely owned by Maya Cox, heart, body, and soul.
Maya lets out a small mew in her sleep, and my head whips to the side. She’s still curled toward me, her hair a tangled halo across the pillow, her fingers resting over my ribs like she’s claiming territory even in her dreams. I never stood a chance, did I? Somewhere between the first joke on the rooftop deck, the way she caught me when I fell, to the way she showed her inner fortitude, I stopped pretending I didn’t feel something other than friendship.
Her brow softens until she looks almost vulnerable. It’s as if she’s entrusting me to bear the weight of her day-to-day burdens.
Which I’ll do in a heartbeat.
She rolls. Part of me braces for the blast of cold air in the event she steals the covers, but she tucks herself against my chest. Her body fits against mine perfectly. She must think so too intuitively, as a soft sigh escapes her lips.
Reaching over, I play with one of her tightly coiled curls. My fingers tangle in them. “You’re changing my life.”
Without opening her eyes, she murmurs, “Good thing?”
I press a kiss against her forehead. “Very good.”
“Okay. Sleep now. Talk later,” she mumbles.
I laugh softly, knowing she’ll likely need closer to two pots of coffee for that conversation. With that realization, I give myself a few more minutes to wish I could slip inside her dreams before I slip out of bed.
Yanking on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, I leave some clothes for Maya at the foot of the bed before making my way into the kitchen barefoot. The stone floors are cool beneath my feet as I start the coffee maker. By the time the first pot has brewed, I’m already pulling together eggs, herbs, cheese, and bread.
I’m loading the casserole into the oven by the time Maya joins me in the kitchen wearing the drawstring shorts and sweatshirt I left for her. Yawning, she brings a hand to her lips. “Coffee?”
Knowing I have no hope of having any sort of conversation with her before she’s had any, I hand her my mug. Much to my surprise, she doesn’t retreat around the counter but snuggles up to me instead.
Wrapping my arms around her waist loosely, I rest my head against hers. “I could get used to this.”
Her response is a delicateslurpthat causes me to chuckle. That’s when she mutters, “No serious stuff before fuel.”
“Understood.” I’m about to brave her wrath to find out how she feels about fresh herbs when I hear a faint click at the side door.
Please, God, not Zia Vinnie.
