A slow, cautious smile tugged at his lips — the kind that looked like it hadn’t been used in a while.“You’re dangerous, you know that?”
“Me?”I laughed.“I’m the least dangerous person I know.”
“Exactly.”He nudged my hip with his.“You’re honest.And kind.And you look at me like I’m...something more than a pretty distraction.”
“You are more.”
His breath hitched — just a little, but enough that I felt it.
He leaned back against the counter, fingers tapping nervously against his mug.“I don’t want to mess this up, Robbie.”
“You’re not.”
“I could,” he said quietly.“I’ve got a talent for it.”
“I’m not great at this either.”I reached out, brushing my fingers against his.“Then we’ll take it slow.Talk.Figure it out.Together.”
He stared at our hands for a moment, then laced his fingers through mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Okay,” he murmured.“Yeah.I’d like that.”
The awkward tension in the room softened, replaced by something warm and fragile, and real.Ashton squeezed my hand once, then let go to take another sip of tea.
“Is this a good time for me to tell you that you’re a blanket hog?”I said, meeting his gaze over the top of my mug.
“Rude,” he said, smirking, “by the way you snore.”
“I do not.”I gasped.
“You absolutely do.It’s adorable.”
I groaned.“Brilliant.Add that to the list of things I’m overthinking today.”
He laughed — a proper, bright laugh — and the knot in my chest loosened.
ASHTON
Robbie looked likehe was trying to decide whether to melt into the floor or climb inside his mug.I could practically see the thoughts spinning behind his brilliant blue eyes — worry, hope, confusion, all wrapped up in that earnest way he had of overthinking everything.
God, he was adorable.
And I was in trouble.
“Do you want the first shower?”I asked, nodding toward his...situation.The poor guy was trying so hard to stand casually, but the dried-on underwear was doing him no favours.
His cheeks flushed.“Is it that obvious?”
“Only because you’re walking like you’ve been horseback riding for three days.”I grinned.“Go.I’ll find you a towel.”
He muttered something about dying of embarrassment, but he disappeared into the bathroom with the towel I tossed him.I leaned against the counter, letting out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding.
Last night had been...different.Not just sex.Not just company.Something in the way he listened, the way he looked at me like I was a whole person and not a performance — it had cracked something open in me.
I wasn’t used to that.
When he came out, hair damp, shirt clinging in a way that made my brain short-circuit, he gave me a shy smile that hit me square in the chest.
“Your turn,” he said.
