Then his face softens.
“You want some help?”
My eyes peel open, and for a second, I don’t understand where I am, what I’m feeling…
Whose body I’m curled up against.
But it only takes another heartbeat, another inhale of the spicy male scent for me to realize where I am.
In Leo’s arms.
The last thing I remember is squinting at my lopsided stitches, thinking that no matter how many YouTube videos I watch, I’m not going to magically master crocheting.
Now the TV is in sleep mode, cycling through ads for shows I won’t be watching, and moonlight is shining through the windows.
Groaning softly, I reach for my phone, see it’s right after midnight.
I should wake Leo up, send him on his way.
But his arm is wrapped tightly around my middle, and his face is in my hair, and he’s so big, so strong, so…much.
I can’t make myself shift away.
So, I just lay there listening to him breathe slow and deep, steady and even.
And—as stupid as it may be—I feel my eyes start to slide closed.
At least until he murmurs in a groggy voice, “Harper.”
Just my name.
But also not.
Because it’s filled with so much longing it hurts me to hear it, so much it calls to the yearning inside me and sends it spiraling outward with such urgency that I freeze—my body torn between sinking deeper into his hold and bolting for the exit.
“Fuck, Harper,” he groans softly. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
The words are so clear, so intense that I look up.
But his eyes are closed, his body full of tension—as though he’s in a nightmare.
Or maybe that’s me.
I need to get out of here, need to wake him up and tell him to go home.
But when I push against him, his arm wraps tighter, pressing my face into his chest as he buries his face in my hair and inhales deeply. “Harper. Baby.” He groans. “Fuck, Harper.”
The anguish in my name, it’s killing me.
“Leo,” I whisper.
He jerks, his arm going tighter, and when I look up this time, it’s to see his body still beyond tense. But his eyes are open, blazing as they connect with mine.
As the moment stretches.
As I become critically aware of every inch of my body pressed to every inch of his.
Every hard inch.
