I swallowed, trying to calm my nerves. Why was I so nervous? This is what I wanted.
I stood and put on a confident front, sauntering over to the other side of the bed and slipping in behind her.
I reached out for her warmth on instinct, folding her into my upper body. Slipping an arm over her and resting it on the top of the blanket, my hand found the lump that was Mr. Beans beneath. I squeezed gently, reassuring him that I wasn’t here to take his place.
I tried to keep things in the friend zone, my lower half away from hers, especially given the ever-hardening length that was now throbbing in my sweatpants. The slightest touch might cause me to combust. I’d been far too reserved lately, unable to take care of my more primal needs when she was around every corner.
She, on the other hand, was much less reserved than I, immediately pressing her rear against my groin.
I grunted and hissed out a breath.
The globe of her ass fit so well, I had to bite back my need to move against her. With all the thick fabric, I just hope she doesn’t notice my arousal, but even if she does, do I care?
I was a man, and she was a beautiful woman, and we had history. Things like this were bound to happen, even in the friend zone. Squeezing my eyes shut, I thought of anything and everything else to distract myself from our position.
She couldn’t stop fidgeting, her butt and hips rocking to keep warm.
“Betty, you need to stop fidgeting,” I huffed out, my voice gruff and strained.
She giggled.“Deal with it,” she teased in a playful voice.
I gripped her hip in warning, fingers stilling her rhythm.“I’m not sure that’s a front-row seat you’re ready to take right now, Buttercup.”
She giggled, but stopped moving.
We shared the same pillow, and I released my hand on her hip in order to reach up and uncoil the wet towel from her head, tossing it to the floor. I ran my fingers along her scalp, working the tangles from the strands before twisting them into a ball at the base of her neck.
She moaned.“Do I still smell like Tallulah?” she asked.
I leaned in, breathing deep into the crook of her neck, my cold nose tracing her ear.“No,” I murmured. She smelled of fresh river water and earth, not of bear.
“Thank the forest fairies for that,” she whispered.
My palm covered her cold, exposed ear, warming it with my breath. She shivered, unsure if it was from the chill or my touch. I rested my face against her neck, closing my still stinging eyes.
The room warmed gradually, and so did our bodies, starting from our shared core and spreading outwards rapidly. By the time it was comfortable again, we were both asleep, tangled together with a cat sandwiching us in on either side. While our stomachs grumbled with hunger, sleep still won the battle.
In the morning, I was packing up that cot for good. I’d never sleep on it again, not if this was the alternative available to me.
Chapter 23
Betty
When I woke the next day, the first thing I looked for when I opened my eyes was a bear.
I can say with certainty that sleeping with a bear was not on my bingo card this year, yet here I was, yet again livin’the dream. Upon careful consideration of my current surroundings and the dutiful prodding of my senses, a bear was not the issue today.
No.
Today, it was a man.
I was face-first, pressed into Gray’s neck, his skin carrying the scent of evergreen, river water, and his own distinctly male musk. His stubble was a bit longer than usual, and I secretly loved the rugged look and softer feel. He was lying on his back, breathing deep and steady, with a soft snore rumbling in his throat.
Waking up, or even sleeping—actuallysleeping—with a man was never my thing. We know this, but sleeping with Gray? I did that far too well. Having now woken up twice to that deep, chocolaty-rich feeling of rest while in his company, it was a fact at this point that it was heaven. Despite the trauma and challenges of the past forty-eight hours, I hadn’t felt this physically reset in a very long time—hell, not since the last time we slept together, which felt like a lifetime ago.
It was hard to regret the way one leg was straddling his hips right now, my arms clamped around him like I would my personal shopper during the Nordstrom semiannual sale. I needed this, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
I was a cuddler and always had been. My mother and I were close, constantly hugging and sitting hip to hip on the couch watching movies, but since she passed, it’s been difficult to connect with anyone in that comfortable way. I miss her and our special bond, and I’ve been longing for a new friend to share that with.
