“It’s notmybedroom. This is one of my guest rooms.” He pulled back the thick, blue duvet cover. “Hop in.”
Her mouth opened and closed. Finally, she said, “I’m not getting in bed with you.”
She would be a tough nut to crack.
“For a woman willing to strip with me, you have trust issues, Becca.” He cocked his head and waited her out.
She didn’t budge. “My mama taught me not to hop into a man’s bed just because he asks me to.”
What did her mama say about riding nude in a musician’s sports car? That’s what he wanted to know.
“I told you, it’s not my bed.” How many times did he have to say it? “I’m getting the feeling that you don’t believe me.”
“Because I don’t believe you.”
“I just want to show you the mattress.” He made big eyes at her and tilted his head toward the bed.
“You’re impossible.” She let out a sigh and sat on the edge of the bed.
It did that thing where it molded itself to her body. Her expression went from incredulous to slack to curious.
“What is this witchcraft?” she asked, giving it a little bounce.
“I know, right?” He shoved his hands on his hips. “Lay down. Get the full experience.”
She laid down and…oh, yeah…she sighed.
He grinned like a goddamned fool because he’d made her sigh and smile, and it had everything to do with a bed and absolutely nothing to do with sex.
“Linx?” She tossed her forearm over her eyes.
“Becca?” he replied.
“I’m going to take a tiny nap. Will that bother you?”
No, he didn’t mind. Not at all.
Chapter 6
Becca
Linx’s guest bedroom was bigger than her entire condo had been in Portland. Even with the excessive commitment to the color blue, it totally overshadowed her Denver garage apartment. Nothing here had come from Lowe’s or The Home Depot. This was all custom, high end, costs-more-than-her-car décor.
The place was comfortable.
She’d slept better than she had in weeks. The futon was great because she didn’t have to make her bed or worry about where she was going to crash. This bed though? Oh yeah. Her body was a relaxed puddle of Becca. She peeled her eyeballs open and glanced around. The remnants of her milkshake were on the nightstand in the plastic cup. Gibson had curled up on the pillow to her right. He wasn’t asleep though; he stared at her like he’d been doing just that for quite a while.
“You need to work on your morning-after technique.” She reached over and gave him a head rub. “Full eye contact like that is borderline breakup worthy the first night you spend with a girl. That’s more in line with third-night behavior.”
Gibson did a slow blink but continued staring.
She rolled in his direction, pulling Gibson to her chest to give him a more thorough morning cuddle.
“First night, you rarely want to wake up together,” she mused. “Better not to share the whole morning breath thing right out of the gate. You do the deed and you go home.”
Gibson purred in response.
“Second night, you could consider staying, but don’t do breakfast. You don’t want to give the impression that you’re clingy.”
