I let my eyes linger on the curve of her cheek, the faint smudgeof mascara beneath her lashes. Her mouth was soft, parted slightly, lips the color of pink champagne.
Mine.
I wanted her to be mine so badly it physically hurt.
I brushed my thumb lightly along her spine where the shirt had ridden up, just the barest graze against warm skin. She stirred, a tiny sound in her throat, but didn’t wake.
And I just…lookedat her.
At the way she fit against me, at how natural it felt to wake up with her hair in my face, her heartbeat steady against my ribs. I didn’t know how long I stayed there, memorizing every detail like it would have to last me a lifetime.
My heart clenched in my chest. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about her — wasn’tallowed.She had me wrapped around her pretty finger, and she didn’t even have to try. Falling for her was theeasiestthing I had ever done. Easier than breath. Like my entire life had led me right here, right to her side.
And she might never be mine.
Her fingers twitched in her sleep, clutching against the skin on my chest like she wasn’t willing to let me go. “Morning, sweetheart,” I whispered into her hair, knowing she couldn’t hear me.
I pressed the lightest kiss to the crown of her head.
And for one stupid, perfect second, I let myself imagine it — waking up like this every day. Her in my shirt. My arms around her. Her messy hair in my face.
“Hey, handsome.” Her voice came quietly in the softness of the morning, stretching like a cat. She curled closer still, fingers tracing the lines on my chest.
“Hey, hon.” I pressed my lips against her forehead, trying not to grin as widely as I wanted to.
She blinked slowly up at me, eyes still heavy with sleep. “You’ve been staring at me, haven’t you?”
“Maybe,” I said, thumb brushing over the curve of her waist. “Sue me.”
Her lips curved, lazy and pleased. “Creep.”
I shifted beneath her regretfully. “Hey, baby.” I sat up, pulling her with me. “I’ve got call in about an hour, I should go.”
“No,” her lips turned downward into the most adorable excuse for a pout. “Stay.”
I pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek as I attempted to untangle myself from her. She caught my wrist before I could stand, her fingers light but insistent. “Just… five more minutes?”
And Jesus, I wanted to.
So I let myself sink back down, her body curling instinctively into mine again. My hand found her hair, combing through the mess of it.
“Five minutes,” I said, already knowing I’d give her as long as she asked for.
Fifteen minutes passed, and she was snoring quietly beside me again. I glanced at the time… and decided Iwouldn’thave time to run home and change clothes before call time. And I wasn’t about to undress Juniper as she slept.
So I pulled my hoodie over my head, my jeans on, and — god help me — kissed her forehead softly before sneaking out of the room.
Carefully, hoping not to make any noise, I crept back up the stairs.
God.
I’m almost forty years old, and I’m sneaking out of a girl’s house.
What happened to me?
I shut the basement door, feeling proud of myself when the lock ‘snicked’ into place.
“Good morning, Mr. Barlowe.” A deep voice came from a few rooms over, about scaring me right out of my skin.
