“Liar.”
“I prefer creatively inaccurate.”
I shift onto my side. “Come here.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m emotionally vibrating.”
“Talia.”
That shuts her up.
I lift the edge of my blanket. “Come here, little hellcat.”
She hesitates just long enough to make me think she might use sense.
Then she moves closer slowly. Giving me every chance to tell her no.
I don’t.
I wrap my arm around her and pull her in.
Bad idea.
I know it the second her body hits mine.
She fits against me like trouble found a home. Soft where I’m hard. Warm under that thin blanket. Her hair brushes my jaw. Her hand lands on my chest, fingers curling in my cut.
I go still.
She notices.
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“Then why do you feel like a wall?”
“Trying to be decent.”
“That sounds painful.”
“You have no idea.”
Her fingers move against my shirt.
Just a little.
Enough.
I catch her wrist before she can touch my neck. Not rough. Firm.
