“About what?”
“The bed. I’m used to cots or worse, most recently sand.”
“It’s a good thing, what you all are doing.” She rolls to her side as well. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Let’s see. I’ve only ever had one serious girlfriend.”
“So you’re the player type,” she teases, although something I can’t describe flashes in her eyes.
“No. I’m definitely a relationship kind of guy.”
“Then why the lack of relationships?”
“I had a bad breakup, and well, living in the desert isn’t exactly a great place to find love.”
“Are you looking for love?” she asks.
“Aren’t we all? Are you?”
“One day,” she says wistfully. “I need to get my life in order.”
“You seem to be doing a pretty good job of that.”
“I—I don’t trust easily. So it’s going to be hard to be able to open up to someone to reach that point.”
Reaching out, I place the palm of my hand against her cheek. “Who hurt you?”
“I—I just don’t want to be like my mom. I never met my dad. He found out about me and told Mom to take care of the problem, and bolted. My life was hard growing up, and I want more. I want better.”
My heart cracks wide open for her. “Thank you for tonight. For agreeing to have dinner with me.” I drop my hand because touching her soft skin makes me think about touching her everywhere, and I’m not a one-night stand kind of guy. No matter how fucking tempting she is.
“You look tired,” she observes as I cover a yawn.
“I didn’t sleep well the last couple of nights.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“You like talking about yourself?”
“What?” Her eyebrows furrow as she tries to figure out what I mean.
“All I could think about was you and tonight.”
“Really?” There’s both surprise and awe in her voice.
“Really,” I say over another yawn.
“You want to take a nap?” she asks.
“No, I’ll be okay.”
“Ford, you’re dead on your feet.”
“I don’t want to miss my time with you. I’m not ready to leave you,” I confess.
“I didn’t ask you to leave. I asked you if you wanted to take a nap.”
“With you?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It’s late.”
“Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?” she teases.
“No.” I reach out and tickle her side.
“Then stay.”
“One condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You let me hold you.” Her eyes widen at my request. “I promise I’ll be good, I just… I really want to know what it's like to hold you in my arms.”
“I’m not… I mean, we can’t—” She stumbles over her words.
“Hey.” I move in closer to her, wrapping my arms around her. “I just want to hold you. I promise. If anytime you are uncomfortable, I’ll leave. Chad knows I’m here. Do you really think if he thought I would hurt you, he would let me be here with you?”
“No.”
“Call him.”
“What?”
“Call him. Ask him what you should do.”
“No. That’s crazy.”
Digging my phone out of my pocket, I dial his number, placing him on speaker. “She finally kick your ass out?” Chad chuckles.
“Nah. I’m actually going to stay awhile.”
“Yeah? You really like her, huh?” he asks.
My eyes lock on hers. “I do.” She gives me a curious look, and I don’t dare take my eyes off hers.
“She’s a hard nut to crack,” he warns me.
“I can be patient.”
“All right, well, I’ll tell Mom not to expect her car home tonight. Keep her safe.”
“Always.” Ending the call, I roll over and place my phone on the nightstand before facing her again. “Let me hold you.” I hold up my arm, and she gives me a subtle nod before moving in close, rolling over, pressing her back to my front. I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her neck. My eyes are heavy as I relax into the mattress. There is only one thought as I drift off to sleep.
How am I going to leave her?
Chapter 8
Shayne
I’m wrapped in the warmest blanket. Soft, yet firm, with the most comfortable cotton pressed against my cheek. I can feel the early morning sunshine bleeding through the old blinds, and I can smell rich musk and sandalwood. I want to bury my nose in it and revel in the absolute perfection of this sleep. It’s heaven, basically, and I never want to leave this bed.
My pillow moves, mumbling follows, catching me by complete surprise. Suddenly, I’m not sleeping, not dreaming. I’m very much awake, and so is the one I’m pressed firmly against.
Images of last night flood my mind. Our dinner date, followed by coming back here. We moved to my bedroom so we could watch a movie, but I don’t remember much after the opening credits. Ford was exhausted, passing out pretty much the moment he laid down on my bed. Normally, I might be insulted by his lack of interest, but I know that’s not what it was about. There was no pressure to take our night further, not even when we lay down beside each other on top of my bed.