“Me, too.” It sounded like he punched at his pillow.
She bunched the blankets at her chest. “How’s the floor?”
“Smells like dog piss. How’s the bed?”
“Smells like clean sheets.” Not thousand-thread-count sheets, but they weren’t awful. She adjusted her own pillow.
He sneezed. She stared at the ceiling, willing sleep to come. What had she gotten herself into? What did a guy like him wear to bed? Was he a boxers kind of guy or a nothing kind of guy? Her belly fluttered with a craving not even chocolate cake would fix.
He sneezed again.
“You okay, Will?”
“Allergic to dogs. Given the smell down here, whoever owns this rental brings their dog along when they visit.”
“Will? How do you feel about a pillow line?” She sat up and leaned over the bed, her eyes finally adjusting.
“A what?” He faced the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest.
“You know, a pillow line? I let you come up here, but you can’t cross the pillow line.”
Didn’t everyone know about the pillow line?
“Is that a thing?” It was dark, but she could practically see the devil’s-smile he must’ve had.
“It’s an Amish thing.”
“It’s not an Amish thing.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes, and the sleeping bag rustled as he sat up.
“Fine, you’re right. It’s a Lucy thing.” She tossed the covers back and scooted to the other side of the bed.
“To be clear, you’re inviting me into your bed?” he asked.
She sucked in a heated breath, and not even double-fudge chocolate cake would overpower her craving now.
He sneezed again.
She sighed. “Yeah. I guess I am.” She set up a pillow down the center as he slipped underneath the covers.
“Luce?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“Knew I liked you.”
“Go to sleep, Will.”
Sometime during the night, the pillow line blurred, and William’s arm snaked around her waist. In the depths of sleep, she had snuggled against him and settled her head under his chin. He smelled of sleep and safety. When she came to, she tried to tug herself away, but his arm tightened, and his breath evened. It was then, when she knew he was asleep, he mumbled her name. Oh God, the way it sounded on his lips. This time, instead of wriggling away, she burrowed deeper into his embrace. She wasn’t asleep. And she’d hate herself tomorrow.
Probably.
Chapter Ten
Lucy pressed her foot into something hard. She nudged it with her toe. Hard and warm and human. She jolted up on the bed. A warm hand pressed the tender spot above her ankle. A warm, male hand.
“If you wanted a foot rub, all you had to do was ask. No need to kick me.” William sat at the bottom of the bed in his plaid, lumberjack-inspired shirt. His attention was currently on the bare foot she’d shoved against him, his thumb giving some deep tissue attention to the arch.
“I didn’t want a— Oh. That’s nice.”
