“You don’t have to leave yet, do you?” he said, his mouth still pressed against her, breath warm on her skin.
The answer was definitelyyes,but she felt herself shaking her head as the two of them slowly made their way upright,readjusting their clothes, pausing to meet in the middle, leaning in for a slow, tender kiss.
When Merritt reached for her underwear, Niko already had his hand closed around it.
“Mind if I keep this?”
She couldn’t conceal her own grin. From someone she was even slightly less into, it might’ve made her cringe, but instead, her heartbeat pulsed between her legs. “Sure. You’re going to have my whole wardrobe soon, though. You never gave me back my shirt.”
“Oh, sorry,” Niko said, tucking the piece of fabric casually into his pocket before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and going to his dresser. “I keep meaning to.”
“Sure.”
He pulled open a drawer, where she saw it folded close to the top, and stretched his arm out to hand it to her. “Here you go, kávoura.”
She closed her fingers around the shirt, taking it from him. It smelled like his laundry detergent, and she wondered how many times she could wear it before it faded. “What does that mean?”
“Crab.” He settled next to her on the bed, both of them leaning against the headboard, shoulder to shoulder, and pressed a soft kiss to her temple.
She laughed. “I’ve been called worse.”
“It’s not an insult. I always thought they were pretty cute. Once you get past the claws.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, sinking against him. “There’s this Greek children’s song, ‘Ta Kavourakia.’ My grandmother used to sing it to help me fall asleep.”
“How does it go?”
He shook his head.
“Come on,” she pleaded. “I sang for you. Under very similar circumstances, if you recall.”
“You already used that to get me to show you my sketchbook,” he reminded her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You can’t cash in on that one forever.”
“Maybe it could be your talent for the pageant.”
He threw his head back and groaned. “God. I already forgot about that. I’d rather get up there and do what we just did than sing in front of a crowd.”
She laughed. “I mean, I would definitely call that a talent. Ifthat’son the table, they might as well embroider the sash for you right now.”
He glanced at her in sudden alarm. “Wait. If you’re a judge, isn’t that, like…I don’t know. Cheating?”
“It’s a small-town fundraiser, not Mr. America. I don’t think there are any fully objective judges on that panel. Susan’s judging, and her literal husband is competing. When you win, it’ll be fair and square.”
He was quiet for a long moment, long enough that she tilted her head up to look at him and saw that strong brow knitted in thought. “If I do the pageant,” he said, “would you think about going to LA? Recording with…what did you say her name was?”
Merritt blinked, stunned, sure she’d misheard. She’d brought it up in passing to him during their picnic the day before, the invitation never far from her mind, but they’d moved on from it quickly.
“What?”
He shrugged with the shoulder her head wasn’t resting on. “I dunno. Since I’m about to do something that scares the shitout of me, maybe…maybe we could be in it together.” He glanced at her. “You said she’s young, right? Like you were when you started?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“You could probably really help her. With everything you’ve been through. Not a lot of other people out there who know what that’s like.”
Merritt looked down at her hand, rubbing absently over his bare chest.
He was right, obviously, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t been haunted by the same thing. That was part of the reason she hadn’t outright turned it down yet.
“Wait, what do you meanifyou do the pageant? You already agreed!”
