Page 111 of The Right Kind of Wrong

Blake laughed softly—sweetly, even—and flattened her palms against Monroe’s hips. “I won’t sleep over, but don’t think that you’re getting out of this without a cuddle.”

Monroe scowled before she realized that Maisie was down the hall, and Blake was staying true to her word to make sure the situation didn’t get any more complicated than it needed to be.

Which was easier said than done, as Monroe had to sit with the emptiness expanding through her chest at the idea of Blake leaving.

Not yet, though.

She accepted Blake’s outstretched hands and was pulled upward with unexpected strength.

Standing up, she could see the goose bumps on Blake’s skin. They were both naked now, and it was no secret that Monroe kept the house like an igloo. She ran her hands down Blake’s arms while she guided her over to the bed.

“One cuddle, coming right up,” she said, feeling like a supreme dork but unable to stop herself.

Especially not when Blake crawled under the covers and then patted the empty space next to her. “Get in here.”

Monroe obliged, embarrassingly quickly, and scooted against Blake, who was facing her, their legs tangling together.

Blake looked so beautiful, her head resting against a pillow. She was staring at Monroe with a soft smile on her face, her eyes already starting to drift closed.

Would it be the worst thing, if Blake fell asleep here?

The idea caused a fluttery, nervous feeling to work its way through Monroe’s chest. Instead of acknowledging it, she put her arm across Blake’s pillow, and Blake lifted her head so that she could nestle against Monroe’s shoulder.

It was just sex, Monroe told herself as Blake softened against her.

Really, really good sex, but still just sex.

Monroe wasn’t delusional either. She knew that it was going to happen again. If tonight was any indication, they had potent chemistry that wouldn’t be denied.

At least, Monroe wasn’t going to deny it.

She ran her hand along Blake’s temple. She’d already started breathing slower, her chest rising and falling evenly now.

Monroe looked down. Blake was definitely sleeping.

Trying not to wake her, Monroe reached behind her and grabbed the phone that had been on her bedside table all night. Anyone she’d wanted to talk to had been with her in person.

Two missed calls from Sylvia. That wasn’t a surprise.

Her ex had been getting even more aggressive with the deadline for the gallery show looming, but Monroe had taken to screening her calls and then texting her with updates.

It felt cleansing to be away from Sylvia. Distance had given her perspective that she may have not otherwise gotten, but it made every interaction they were forced to have all the more grating.

Instead of responding, she set an alarm for earlier than Maisie would be up. Hopefully.

Then, she settled back against her pillow, Blake curling in closer, lengthening her body against Monroe’s naked frame.

Monroe knew she was walking a dangerous line, but knowing it and being able to stop herself—especially as she looked down at Blake, sleeping peacefully against her—were two very different things.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Blake looked over the invoices for probably the dozenth time, not really absorbing anything she was reading.

How could she?

Five days ago, she’d slept with Monroe.

And then two days later, she’d done so for the second time.