But I can’t answer, because I’m too busy staring at herhand. The way her fingers rest against my jeans, barely making contact.
It’s not like it means anything. It’s casual. Easy. And turning me on my fucking head.
My blood fizzes in my veins and everything feels brighter, sharper, like there’s a fine sheen of glitter over everything.
My brain screeches to a halt.
Glitter? What the fuck, Eddie? Jesus Christ. I need to go watch a hockey game and do a keg stand or something.
“Hello? I’m guessing this is not a good choice for movie night.”
I blink out of my stupor and drag my gaze back to her face, realizing I’ve been silent way too long.
Too busy hosting my own glitter party. God.
She motions to the screen. “It’s an old movie from the fifties. Sabrina. You’ve probably never heard of it.”
“Audrey Hepburn. Humphrey Bogart.”
Surprise slips into her smile. “I can’t believe you know it.”
I shrug, tucking my hands behind my head. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Well… what I do know is fabulous.” She captures her lower lip between her teeth and once again, I have to fight the urge to reach for her.
The opening ads start, the soft glow of the television filling the room.
After a few minutes, Kiki shivers, rubbing her hands over her arms.
“You want me to throw another log on the stove? Those things are temperamental. They’re either this side of Fargo or this side of hell.”
She shakes her head, snatching a blanket from the side chair. “I’ve got this bad boy. He and I have spent a lot of timetogether lately.” She pulls the blanket around her before looking up at me. “Do you want to… come under the blanket?”
Even in the low light, I see the redness climbing her cheeks and bite back a grin. Do I love that I fluster her? Damn right I do.
“Okay, that came out wrong. What I mean is, do you want some of the blanket?” She holds up a corner in offering. “We don’t have to—snuggle or anything. That’s not—” She groans and buries her face halfway into the blanket. “Oh my God. Shoot me.”
Yeah, she made that way harder than it needed to be.
And yeah… I absolutely want to be closer to her, which is a whole separate problem.
My brain is already pumping the brakes, reminding me this is not the moment. The rest of me? Not nearly as interested in playing it safe.
Still, when a gorgeous woman offers half her blanket, you don’t argue.
I lift my arm, motioning for her to scoot down. “Come here. I have it on good authority that I’m an excellent snuggler.”
“I might need to take you on a trial run.”
“Well, get in here then.”
A second later, she settles against me, every inch of her molding against me like she was made to fit.
A second after that, my brain rattles off a barrage of questions, simultaneously meant to be helpful and driving me insane.
Do I maintain a loose grip? Tighten my arm? Stop overthinking every little thing?
I choose the third option.
