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"Why did I say get off?"
"You like torturing yourself."
"I must if I'm here." She looks up at me with hunger in her eyes.
But she doesn't push it.
Her hands go to my waist.
Her fingers dig into my skin as she pulls my body toward hers.
I suck on her bottom lip.
Fuck, her groans are music. Poetry. Everything.
Pulling back is torture.
She sighs as she settles into her seat.
Rests her head on my shoulder like she isn't dying to tear my clothes off.
I hold her close like I'm not dying to tear hers off.
We make it through the rest of the movie. Then the first half of the next—she picks His Girl Friday. Falls asleep an hour in.
She melts into me.
Usually, my skin crawls when a girl falls asleep on top of me. It's an intimacy I don't want.
It's still fucking terrifying.
But it feels good. Right.
I run my fingers through her hair. Watch her chest rise and fall with her exhale. Watch her lips part with a sigh.
Chloe stirs as I wrap my arms around her and carry her to the bedroom.
Her hand slides around the back of my neck.
Her head rests on my chest.
She murmurs something into my skin. I have no idea what it is. Only that I want more of that soft, needy tone.
I lay her on the blue sheets.
Her eyes blink open. Fix on mine.
She smiles a wide, nervous smile. The same one she gave me all those years ago.
I sit next to her. Pull the comforter to her chest.
"Good night." I press my lips to her forehead.
She lets out a soft sigh. "Good night."
It's agony tearing myself away, but I manage it.
I move into the main room. Pour a glass of water. Channel surf.
