Marlow grins and the paint brush accidentally falls from her hand and…unceremoniously winds up in my lap, adding a small splatter over my crotch.
She dives forward with a flurry of apologies but when her hand grabs the paintbrush and her knuckles graze over my tented bulge, she immediately pauses, holding her breath in stilled shock.
Her head raises to mine and she maintains eye-contact.
I hiss an inhale and my big palm falls over her bare upper-thigh, kneading the flesh. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Marlow.”
She licks her bottom lip and whispers, “And you’re playing it back,Thane.”
Chapter Five
MARLOW
Ugh. I can’t sleep.
I did my usual night routine—shower, skin care, watch Gilmore Girls reruns for background noise until I fell asleep. For about half an hour. Then I woke up.
Now I’ve tossed and turned for the twentieth time. The room is fine. Cool and pleasant. There’s a gentle breeze coming through the window crack, the curtains billowing. The bed is big enough, the cotton sheets soft under my pink baby doll clad body.
And yet I can’t sleep because I’m plagued by thoughts of my new living arrangement, the lack of updates on the leak in our apartment, andThane.
His mysterious green eyes. His stubbled jaw. His dark expression. His strong body coiled tight with the tension strumming between us.
I can’t stop thinking about him or our afternoon at the ceramic café. He actually painted my emblems—a pink sky and pompoms. I loved that he was willing to take on my challengeand even enjoy himself, if the smile twitching his lips was a telltale sign.
Will he gift me the mug when we go to pick up our pieces or will he keep it for himself?
The thought of Thane with a girlish pink mug sitting in his cupboard that he made because I challenged him makes me grin like a fool.
…And it’s official. Any remnants of sleep have completely evaded me.
I blow out a frustrated breath and glance at the digital clock to my right. Quarter past twelve. Thankfully, I don’t have cheer practice Monday morning and my classes don’t start until the afternoon. But still, I like to get nine hours of beauty sleep every night and give myself enough leeway in the morning to get ready.
Michaela’s asleep since she keeps a stricter schedule than me, falling asleep by ten on the dot and waking up bright and early to head over to the ballet studio, so I can’t exactly go to her room to chill.
I can pull out my diary and journal some more—but what else is there to say? I’ve already gushed about Sunday afternoon and drawn a bunch of hearts near Thane’s name. I know. I know. I’m obsessed. I can’t help my feelings.
To top it off, I think Michaela was one-hundred percent right.
Thane isintome.
It can’t be denied any longer.
He wants me. I want him. I just don’t know what happens next.
I sit up in bed with a small yawn. There’s no point dwelling in this room. I might as well get up and walk a bit, stretch my muscles.
Maybe make a lavender tea.
That usually helps me decompress and fall back asleep.
Placing my feet in my pink furry slippers, I step out of the room, quietly closing my door to not make a sound. I don’t want to wake up Michaela or Thane. The old floorboards creak as I quietly walk down the hallway and enter the kitchen.
I made sure to bring over my tea box. Michaela showed me where they store the kettle and once I put water in it, I wait, drumming my fingers against the counter as I peer out the kitchen window.
And surprisingly, I spy a lone figure sitting in the solarium.
Thane.
