His sincerity, proximity, and state of undress have all become too much, overriding my nervous system to the point where I have to look away. He doesn’t let me, though, his fingers tipping my chin up so I’m forced to meet his gaze. The contact of his skin against mine has the words dying in my throat, and it’s like electricity is zapping between us in a current so strong, I swear it’s magnetic. It’s been happening more lately, and it’s driving me crazy, the way my body reacts to his touch. The way it seems towantit.
More than that, it’s become harder to ignore or write off as a fluke or happenstance. Especially now that I have a completely different reaction to seeing him half-naked.
“Well, I can choose stuff for us to do, but I want you to enjoyyourself too, so—”
“Will you just relax and try to have fun this week?” he asks gently, his thumb moving along my jaw. “I promise you, I don’t care what we do. I’m here for you, remember?”
My throat catches, and all I can really manage to utter is a gruff “okay.”
A smile pulls at his lips, and he whispers, “Look at that. You do know how to listen to someone other than yourself.”
“Well, I—”
There’s a knock at the open door, and the sound has me nearly jumping out of my skin, effectively breaking whatever moment was happening.
“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” my brother states, his gaze quickly shifting away from us. “I was just checking if you two are ready. We gotta get going if we’re gonna make our reservation.”
Right. Fuck.
I clear my throat and step back, putting some necessary space between myself and Camden, whose lack of shirt I’m sure looks to be causing Oakley as much discomfort as it is me.
“Yeah, we’ll be right there.”
Oakley nods before ducking out of the room, but I sure as hell don’t miss the puzzled expression pulling his features into a frown.
“Good to go?” Camden asks.
The question draws my gaze back to him, only to find him wearing a gray hoodie with his denim jacket over top—a look I’ve come to notice is his signature. Not that I should be noticing those things about him. Oranythings.
Jesus Christ, why does it matter? At least he’s wearing a shirt again.
Painting on a smile, I say, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“All right,” he replies with a smirk. “Then it’s showtime, Little Reed.”
Fifteen
Camden
I wake a bit disoriented the following morning, and it takes a moment to remember I’m not in my bed in Chicago but in Oakley’s New York apartment. It takes another few seconds of blinking away the daze of sleep to realize…I’m not alone either.
Logan’s tucked in against my side, using my shoulder as a pillow—though,tucked inseems a bit tame for the way he’s clinging to me. His arm rests on my torso, warm and heavy with sleep, while his palm splays out over one of my bare pecs. He’s got a leg slung over one of mine too, his knee bent and wedged in between my thighs.
My brain struggles for a solid minute to comprehend the sight, and it takes almost ten times longer to get my libido in check after I notice he’s also stripped down to just his underwear.
Truthfully, I was expecting to wake up and find his side of the bed still empty. He stayed out in the living room after the rest of us turned in last night, and while I know he prefers to draw into the quiet early morning hours, part of me assumed he’d use it as an excuse to sleep on the couch.
But he must’ve snuck in while I was asleep, and at some point in his own slumber, wound up like this.
For someone who doesn’t like to touch, he sure appears to be a cuddly little koala.
I notice my lips curving into a small smile as I stare down at his unconscious form plastered against me. Pieces of light-brown hair stick up haphazardly, the sleep-mussed look quite similar to the way it appears after he takes off the beanie he wears outside. My fingers itch to smooth them down, or even slip into the silky strands and play with them while he sleeps. Hell, my entire body craves the thought of pulling him in closer, allowing the heat of his bare skin on mine to seep into my bones.
But I tamp down the desire. The last thing I want is to wake him and effectively ruin this moment.
I can’t stop the hand gently hugging him to me from skimming over his back in slow, gentle circles, though. Memorizing the feel of his skin beneath my fingertips while my gaze traces over his peaceful features.
A soft noise—some mixture of a hum and a sigh—comes from him, freezing my movements instantly. But rather than waking, he burrows his face against my neck, nestling in closer against my ribs while my heart threatens to crack every one of them.
