Page 66 of The Casanova Complex

“Is your mom not around? I just noticed at your house earlier that she wasn’t in any of your family photos, and you’ve never really mentioned her.”

Her throat bobs as she runs her tongue along her teeth before shaking her head. “She passed away when Elliot was a baby. All of the photos we have with her are from before he was born. He doesn’t really remember her. Which I don’t know is a good or a bad thing.”

I nod in understanding. “I’m sorry, Merritt. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” Merritt says quickly, a ghost of a smile turning her plump lip up, and I feel slightly less of an asshole for asking about her dead mother.

She pulls her leather jacket tighter around her, burrowing into the fabric.

“You want my hoodie?” I ask.

Her deep brown eyes widen. “And leave you without a jacket so I can have two?”

I shrug. “I run hot.”

In too many fucking ways when she’s around.

I start to pull it off when she reaches out to stop me by wrapping her fingers around my wrist.

“Fucking hell, Merritt. Your hands are goddamn freezing.”

Her nose scrunches. “Sorry. Not all of us can have fifty pounds of muscle to keep us warm, big guy.”

“Well, good thing I’m your man, then, huh? You get to reap all the benefits,” I murmur as I reach for her, ignoring her thinly veiled protests and wrapping her in my arms. She’s like a block of fucking ice. “Put your hands in my hoodie pocket.”

She tries to pull back. “You don’t have to d⁠—”

“Merritt. Stop fighting me for five damn seconds, and let me warm you up. You can argue with me once you’re no longer a fucking popsicle.” My chin rests on the top of her head, and after a second of silently wrestling with herself, she gives in and melts against me.

Instead of putting her hands in the front pocket of my hoodie, I feel her hands slip beneath the fabric along my back, and she presses her icy fingers against my bare skin.

I suck in a breath. “Christ, woman.”

She wiggles her fingers. “There. Muuuuuch better.”

“Yeah, I bet so.”

I can feel the heat of her breath, literally the only fucking warm thing on her entire body, as it seeps into the front of my hoodie where her face is pressed into my chest.

This is Merritt putting down her armor, giving me the smallest semblance of trust when it’s clear she doesn’t bestow it onto many.

And it’s just a fucking hug.

“Thanks for being my personal heater,” she murmurs, and I laugh, tightening my arms around her.

“Mhm. Anytime, Mer Bear.”

We stay just like this for a few minutes until she pulls back and stares up at me, one dark brow arched. “What happened to pictures for socials?”

Oh yeah.

Night’s nearly over, so I guess we should probably do that, but honestly, I forgot about it.

Which is probably a red flag for me, but one that I’m going to worry about when I don’t have Merritt in my arms, her sweet cherry vanilla scent of her surrounding me.

Forgetting this is “fake” is a problem for future Bennett.

I fish my phone out of the pocket of my pants and hold it up, dangling it between my fingers. “Perfect timing, huh? I don’t want to blow your cover or anything, but you in my arms and actually enjoying it? Might harm your whole anti-me thing you’ve got going on.”