Page 104 of The Right Kind of Wrong

She knew her relationship with the Lockhart women wasn’t there yet, if it would be at all.

She wasn’t that insane, even though Monroe had swept through her life and her mind with staggering speed and ease.

She didn’t have to wait long; Monroe shook her head before ghosting her lips softly across Blake’s. “It’s okay. I do it a lot of nights, too.”

Blake leaned her head back so that she could take Monroe in. “Yeah?”

“Who doesn’t love a good cuddle?” Monroe said seriously, the dimple in her cheek that Blake so loved to see popping out when she finally smiled.

On the way out the door, Monroe turned off the overhead light and flicked another switch, which illuminated the sign she’d made for Maisie, spelling her name in neon letters.

They stood in the doorway together, watching Maisie sleep. It felt intimate—strangely, more intimate than anything they’d already done together—and Blake let herself bask in how good it felt.

Finally, Monroe pulled the door almost shut, leaving a few inches open for the hallway light to stream through. She grabbed Blake’s hand, guiding her to the door that she knew was Monroe’s bedroom. And suddenly, Blake wasn’t tired anymore.

In fact, her whole body was sparking with energy, flowing to where their hands were connected as Monroe led her down the hallway.

“It’s late,” Monroe said quietly, as she stopped in front of the ajar door.

Blake’s heart was thrumming erratically when she said, “Long walk home,” and gave their arms a light swing.

“Blake.” Monroe’s voice was a whisper, but Blake felt it like it was reverberating through the hallway. She looked Blake in the eyes and asked, “Do you want to stay over?”

Blake exhaled unsteadily, excitement and nervousness battling for dominance. But, above everything else, there was an ache—a longing—that she needed to quell.

The neediness surged through her, making it a little hard for her to breathe. The idea of going after what she wanted made her feel a little dizzy.

Her heart was pounding. Her ears were ringing. Her hands were shaking.

She met Monroe’s intent gaze, and suddenly, everything slowed down.

Because, yes, she wanted this. Wanted it so much that she could barely think about anything else.

The promise of Monroe’s body against hers was more real than the pounding in her chest. The whisper of Monroe’s voice was louder than the sound in her ears. The steadiness when Monroe placed a gentling hand on her arm calmed her nerves, making her feel brave.

She eased the door open farther, until Monroe’s bed came into view in the darkened room.

“I want this,” she said, feeling the truth in her own words.

And then, she pushed up on her tiptoes and pressed their lips together, pulling Monroe into the bedroom with her and shutting the door behind them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Monroe had always felt a sense of responsibility in this world that she hadn’t wanted.

But she wanted it now.

Monroe wanted to lay Blake down on the bed and strip her out of her clothing and taste every inch of her skin. She wanted to make her feel adored and sexy and so out of her mind with want that she chanted Monroe’s name like a mantra as she came apart.

But most of all, she wanted Blake to feel the way that Monroe felt about her. Like she was so fucking special and like anyone who’d ever made her feel differently for a single second in her life should be damned.

This kiss, once the door was closed behind them, started slowly.

Maisie was out like a light. Everyone had gone home. And there was nothing to do but enjoy the taste of Blake’s lips as Monroe opened her mouth wider, so that she could gently suck on Blake’s bottom lip.

Blake moaned, and the sound sparked heat through Monroe, shooting straight to her clit.

All day, Blake had been driving her insane. At the swimming hole, when she’d pushed Monroe up against the building and kissed her within an inch of her life. When she’d unexpectedly seen Monroe in her towel, and Blake’s eyes had raked down her body like she wanted to reach forward, unhook the material, and watch it flutter to the floor.