He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head without a moment’s hesitation. If she wanted him to strip, he’d fucking strip. Give her a show. “Are you going to be joining me, Twinkletoes?”
Her gaze roamed over his bare chest. “Nope.”
“Why not?” he asked, dropping his shirt on the floor.
She gave him her back, breathing unevenly. “Because you’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not.” He approached her, dropping his hands on her shoulders. “I’m just sick of pretending I don’t give a shit when I do. I’m not empty inside.”
She sucked in a breath, saying nothing. Then, after what seemed like a million years, she whispered, “I know.”
“You’re the only one.” He nuzzled her neck, breathing deep. She smelled so damn good. Did she smell like plumeria everywhere? Did she taste like them, too? He needed to know. For once, he wanted to stop caring about all the reasons he shouldn’t touch her and focus instead on all the reasons he should. There were a lot of them. Millions, at least. “You told me you didn’t want me after you kissed me. I think you were lying.”
She let out an angry sound. “Just get in the bed, Brett.”
“Fine. Don’t turn around. I’m taking my pants off.” He stepped back, letting go of her, and she swayed back toward him before straightening again. “Unless you want to watch. If you do…then turn around. I dare you.”
She laughed uneasily. “That’s one dare I probably shouldn’t take.”
“Too scared to?” he taunted, even though he knew she was being the smart one. Stepping out of his pants, he pulled on a pair of pajama pants with Santa all over them—a present from her in high school—and crawled into bed. “By the way, still not drunk.”
She fidgeted with her nightie. “Are you dressed yet?”
“Yeah,” he said, yawning. His voice came out husky and deep. “I’m in the bed.”
She looked over her shoulder at him with apprehension clear in her eyes. When she saw him all tucked in and in place, she smoothed her hair over her shoulders and stepped forward. “All right. I’ll let you sleep it off and—”
“Still not drunk.” He forced himself to look into her eyes without flinching. “Will you sleep with me?”
Her answer meant way too much to him.
More than it should.
Don’t say no.
She shifted on her feet, her hands holding on to her modest nightgown. The soft purple color brought out her eyes and the lush pink of her lips. “You want me to sleep with you? In the same bed?”
“Yes.” He turned down the covers on the other side of the bed. “More than anything in the world. For just one night.”
She cocked her head. “But why?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “All I know is I want you in my arms for a night. I want to see what it feels like.”
She bit down hard on the corner of her bottom lip and took a step toward him. “You’re not drunk?”
“I’m not. I swear it.”
“Brett…” Her eyes closed for a second. “Okay. One night. Just sleeping.”
His pulse sped up. “Okay.”
Without another word, she climbed into bed with him. Rolling over on her side, she tucked her hand under her face and studied him. She was far enough away from him that they weren’t touching, yet close enough for him to feel her heat, and it was addictive. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched a strand of her hair. It was silky soft, and long, and beautiful, like her. “Thank you for staying.”
Her eyes on him, she said, “Leaving when you need me would be harder than walking away from my shadow. It’s just not possible.”
And that’s why he needed her so damn much.
That’s why she scared the shit out of him, too.
“Sometimes, I wish things could be different. That I could be different.”
“I don’t.” She frowned at him. “I like you just the way you are.”
Then she rolled onto her other side, giving him her back. For a while he lay there, just staring at the back of her head, enjoying the feel of her in the same bed with him, even though they weren’t touching. As her breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep, he closed his eyes, too, but his damn mind wouldn’t shut off. How could she still like him for who he was, even after all of these years? How could she not lose faith in him…
When he’d lost it in himself?
Chapter Nine
The next morning, Anna stretched her arms over her head, yawning and blinking at the bright sun streaming into the room…which wasn’t hers. Why wasn’t she…?