This is so unprofessional.
It’s fine. I’m here because he missed check-in. I’m making sure he’s okay before I leave him for the night.
It’s the responsible thing to do.
Bennett shifts to the left, resting his elbow on the arm of the sofa. His torso’s angled toward mine, his muscular quads now sprawling across the middle cushion. Heat radiates from his body and I don’t dare move a muscle.
“You can sit back, Sunshine.” His voice is gruff.
Risky.
“I’m fine.” I squeak out the words and stay locked in position.
“Have it your way.”
He kicks his legs out further and now we’re inchesapart, despite me not having moved. A chase scene flashes on the TV and I catch his gaze flick to my face before he looks away.
The movie rolls on, but I’ve completely lost the plot. I’m hyper-focused on Bennett’s body hovering close to mine. I don’t dare glance over, keeping my eyes locked on the screen. My posture’s ramrod straight and every muscle’s tight.
A car explodes, bursting into flames, and I jump. My legs flare out, bumping against Bennett’s calf. His knee stops bouncing and heat rushes up my thigh.
“Sorry,” I murmur, inching back into my own space.
He doesn’t move closer and after a few seconds, I remember how to breathe.
Fists fly across the screen, and I grip the cushion.
Bennett chuckles, stretching his arm along the back of the sofa. “Always so edgy.”
His fingers are now inches from my shoulder. Not helping the situation.
I try to subtly shift as far to the right as possible, but there’s nowhere to go. I’m already at the edge. Bennett’s so tall and broad, he takes up a massive amount of space.
At least he’s settled down.
Good.
For the first time since I got here, I exhale and lean back. Tension eases from my body as I sink into the sofa, letting my guard down.
Bennett’s fingertips brush my shoulder and a shiver races down my spine, all the way to my toes. He doesn’t move his hand, just lets it rest there.
I don’t say anything, don’t move. I keep my eyes locked on the movie, my mind racing as fast as the hero in the sports car.
This feels dangerous—and right at the same time.
I barely breathe, not wanting to shatter the moment. The music drops with an emotional flashback in the movie, and the room’s quiet.
“Breathe, Sunshine.” Bennett’s deep voice rumbles in the dark and warmth floods my chest, creeping up my neck.
I’m out of my element here.
“I should go.” The words come out breathier than I mean them to and inwardly I cringe.
“Stay.”
One word, fully loaded.
I hesitate.
