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“What?”

“Since we won’t fit on our backs, do you want to have my front against you, or my back? Please don’t say back to back. It’s too weird.”

He coughs. “Um . . . which, uh . . . which do you prefer?” He looks at my ankle. “If you sleep with your back against me, you can keep your foot outside and elevated and not put any weight on it. Might be better for you.”

I smile. “Back it is.” I pat the spot next to me. “Come on, I don’t bite, I promise. Not when I’m fully awake anyway.”

Oliver lets out a strangled laugh but slides next to me, his body heat immediately engulfing me. I try as best I can to stay still while he settles himself against me.

“Ow!” I yelp when his elbow digs into my back.

“Sorry, I don’t know where to put my arms.”

“Hold me,” I blurt.

“What?” His question sends a puff of warm air over my shoulder.

“Just . . . put your arms around me. It’ll be easier.”

What am I doing? What am I saying?

“Charlee, I . . .” He lets out a ragged breath. “Okay.”

He slips one arm under my neck, letting me use it as a pillow, and drapes the other over my waist as he scoots closer, bringing my back fully flush against his front. “Is that okay?” His words tickle my skin, and I can almost feel the faint brush of his lips on my ear.

I nod, and he lets his hand fall flat against my stomach, a solid weight against me.

There’s too much going on in my mind, my body, my nerve endings.

I can’t figure out which part is the most overwhelming. Is it his scent that’s making me lightheaded like I’ve drunk several bottles of the most delectable wine? Or is it the feel of his body pressed against mine, hesitant but firm? Maybe it’s the wild drum of his heart pounding against my back at the same mad tempo as my own.

The sensations are overriding my central system and taking over, flipping all the switches so the only thing my mind can think about is Oliver’s body behind me, his warmth. His safety.

I relax, daring to nestle a bit closer, going soft in his embrace.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks against my neck.

“Yes. Are you?”

I don’t know why we’re both whispering. It’s not like we’re going to wake the neighbors. But raising my voice seems inappropriate. Like I might burst the fragile bubble Oliver created around us. A parallel dimension, where I can give myself a respite, drop my guard, and drift into the familiar solace that is Oliver, experiencing at last what I’ve always felt through his letters and craved to know in person.

“I am,” he replies after a while, his thumb sweeping over my belly.

I stop breathing. Does he realize what he just did? What it does to me?

“Good night, then,” I rasp.

“Good night, Charlee.”

I close my eyes, willing my mind to forget where I am and focus on literally anything else, but I fail miserably. And although I’m pretty sure Oliver could easily put a few inches of distance between us, I don’t mind that he’s glued to me. Which is . . . surprising. Because although I used to wonder what he’d feel like against me, things are different now.

But the feel of him . . . God, my body is coming alive, and all it takes is to feel him against me. It’s laughable. Embarrassing, really, that his earth-and-pine smell is getting me as hot and bothered as if I’ve just had the most intense foreplay in a threesome.

I shift, trying to rid myself of these thoughts. But Oliver pulls himself tighter against me in response.

“Are you okay?” His breath draws a slow shiver from me. “You’re all warm.”

A strangled sound leaves my mouth. “You’re radiating heat.”