She nearly changed her mind. She nearly pushed him back on her bed and climbed on top of him—consequences, be damned.
But then what?
‘I’m definitely right.’ She pressed a chaste kiss to his head, forcing herself to do the right thing, the responsible thing. Sleeping with Elliot while he was drunk was morally questionable at best, and definitely not going to lead to a good time. She hadn’t been able to convince him that they could sleep together casually while he was sober, she certainly shouldn’t try while he was drunk.
She extracted herself from between his legs, his hands lingering on her hips but finally letting go as she pulled away, backing up toward the kitchen.
‘You should have some water.’ She poured him a glass, needing to put some space between them, which was nearly impossible in this tiny apartment.
‘Thanks.’ His eyes were dark, his lips wine-stained, and his hair a mess from her fingers as she handed him the glass. She needed to get out of here.
‘I’m going to get ready for bed. I’ll be right back.’ She left him on the bed singing quietly to himself as she went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, shutting Elliot and his tempting mouth and strong hands out. She gulped a deep breath, repeating to herself that this was for the best. Sex would only make things worse, more complicated, harder to recover from.
But then she thought about the way Elliot’s fingers dug into her hip bones, and the way his hair felt in her hands, and the way he kissed her like he meant it—like he had put his whole self into that kiss—and she thought she needed to give Mac a piece of her mind tomorrow about the strength of those damn drinks. Because this did not feel like it was for the best at all. It felt like they’d gotten so close only to have the moment ruined.
She went round and round like that as she did her nightly routine, wanting Elliot while not wanting to get hurt by him. Or to hurt him. Round and round until she had no idea where she’d landed.
By the time her face was washed and moisturized, and her teeth flossed and brushed, and she returned to the bedroom, Elliot was fast asleep. The decision was made for her.
Daisy gently took off his glasses. He sighed a little when she did and she couldn’t help but push his hair away from his forehead. Why did he have to look so damn pretty?
She put the glasses on the table and then curled up on her own side of the bed, determined not to touch him anymore, not to make this feeling in her chest worse.
The first night they slept together was turning out just as fake as the rest of their relationship.
But the frustration of not having him for real was building.
ChapterTwenty-Four
Elliot was somewhere between asleep and awake, drunk and sober, when Daisy inched her way to his side of the bed. He draped his arm over her waist and she snuggled in closer, the haze of sleep making it safe. She was a dream in his arms. There was nothing to overthink when she sighed, her breath skimming over his neck. Conscious thought was not an issue when she pressed her lips to his throat. She whimpered when he ran his hands over the curve of her hip, daring to run his fingers under the hem of her sleep shirt, over the soft, warm skin of her belly, over her ribs. She pressed tighter against him, and he was so hard, he ached even in his sleep. If it hadn’t been for the jeans he’d fallen asleep in, he was sure he would have come, just from the feel of her next to him, just from the sound of her sleepily whispering his name.
‘I’m here,’ he murmured back and Daisy settled again, her head tucked right below his chin, her breathing levelling out as she fell deeper asleep.
He kept her close for the rest of the night, his hands on her skin, his lips on hers when she wanted him there, when her needy voice broke through the fog of sleep.
She was the most realistic dream he’d ever had.
He didn’t want to wake up.
* * *
Someone was humming a familiar song. Elliot cracked open one eye and confirmed what he already knew. This was not his bed. This was not his house. And the person humming was the beautiful and perfect Daisy as she made tea in her tiny kitchen. The woman he’d made a complete ass of himself in front of last night.
It hadn’t been a dream.Shit.
Elliot really had had too much to drink (like the lightweight that he was) and thensangon the streets of Dream Harbor (dear God, kill him now) and then passed out in Daisy’s bed (like an absolute loser). He wouldn’t be surprised if she never wanted to see him again. At this point, he wasn’t really wild about having to see himself.
While he was horrified by the memories of last night, a small part of him was vindicated.See, he really was bad at dating! He was right to stay in his home and never leave it and to die alone someday. All perfectly reasonable after last night’s antics. His therapist would say these were not productive thoughts, but Dr. Bill wasn’t here, now was he?
‘And you’ll look sweet upon the seat…’ Daisy sang quietly before fading back to humming. She was singing the song he had last night, the one that always sprang to mind whenever he said her name. She sounded… happy? Maybe all was not lost.
Time to bite the bullet and face his mistakes.
He opened his eyes and stretched a little before sitting up and facing Daisy, who was now sipping her tea at the kitchen table. The one that was only about a foot from the bed.
‘Good morning,’ she said with a shy smile. ‘Sorry if I woke you.’
‘You should have shoved me out of your bed first thing this morning.’
