“A cuddle.”
I stare at his face, my smile fading. “What?”
“I am a drunk cuddler, Red. Don’t hold it against me, alright?” He sighs, finally cracking open his eyes to look at me again. He drops his hands to his chest and rubs a spot there as if to soothe himself. “Plus, I know you’re missing Stinky rightnow. He’s not here, and I’m sorry for that, but I’m the next best thing.”
My smile is back, loving how he remembers all the little details of me. “I should have brought him in my purse.”
He nods very seriously. “Rookie mistake.”
“You want to cuddle?” I ask, ensuring that I’m understanding his request. He dips his chin, his eyes rimmed red. “On this couch? You’re a big boy, Carter. I don’t know if we’ll fit.”
“We’ll fit,” he counters, and he pushes himself as far into the crease of the couch as humanly possible, opening his arms. “Or we can go and cuddle in bed. It’ll be ten times more comfortable, but I don’t want to risk making youeven slightly uncomfortable.”
The idea of sleeping next to him in bed is appealing, which is why I can’t do it. I know what happens if we do. I know how much physical restraint I have left when it comes to him.
With a deep sigh, I pull the blanket off the back of the couch and crawl to his front. There’sjustenough room, but I’m so close to the edge that I run the risk of spilling right off and onto the floor.
Carter tugs the blanket over our bodies, half of his legs still sticking out. He runs his hand over my stomach and tugs my back to his chest as tightly as he can. I won’t fall now. He’s made himself my human seatbelt. I nuzzle deeper into his arms, letting out a soft breath, when he turns on the television and puts on one of my favourite shows.
“You okay?” he asks softly in my ear.
A bittoookay.
I nod against his arm, reaching down to place my hand over his.
“Thanks for tonight, Red.” He leans in, pressing his lips to the spot just behind my ear. I shudder, making him freeze, andfor a second, I truly debate flipping over and crushing my mouth to his. But then he swipes his thumb against my stomach and lets out a deep breath and I force myself to stay put.
“I had the best time. Don’t thank me,” I whisper, and I can’t help it, I slide back a bit more into his touch. His hand snaps up to my hip, holding me there. I can feel his heart racing against my back and I’m certain mine is running alongside it.
The television flickers through the dark room, but neither of us speak. His fingers rest gently on the skin of my hips. I’m dressed only in his T-shirt and a pair of his boxers. So easily removable. Just thin pieces of loose fabric between us.
“Rule number one,” he says in my ear, his voice deep and hoarse. My head reels to remember our contract. “Is this situation dire?”
Rule #1: No Funny Business:Hand holding, touching, and normal couple things are permitted.Kissing only if the situation is dire. No physical contact beyond that point.
I nod against his arm frantically. “Yep.”
He turns me in his arms so quickly, it’s remarkably impressive. Within seconds, I’m facing him, chest to chest. My hands are on his face, his are on my hips. His eyes burn into mine. One of his hands slides to my backside, and then glides down my thigh, hoisting it over his hip.
“Quickly,” he says quietly. “I’m slowly perishing. My heartbeat is fading. I can see the light in the distance, beckoning me.”
I crack up, breaking into laughter in the same moment where I was just burning.
“I think I see Amelia Earhart. She’s waving to me.”
I laugh harder, shaking so hard that his grip slides to my back so he can keep me on this couch.
“She’s sitting next to Abe Lincoln. He’s wearing a helmet. Better safe than sorry, I guess.”
“Shut up,” I beg, trying to breathe evenly to keep myself calm. His smile slowly fades into something more gentle, more…thoughtful. He swallows, eyes darting down to my mouth, hand sliding up my spine.
His eyes flicker back up to mine. We look at each other for a moment that lingers like forever. “I like your laugh.”
I just nod, sliding my hand to the back of his head and slowly pulling myself to his mouth. It’s soft, sweet, and simple. All words that are the opposite of who Carter is. Neither of us deepens it at first; we just lose ourselves in the most tender and languid kiss to ever happen in the history of time. One that feels separate from our arrangement, even though we just cited it as a part of it.
My heart stills. Like it wants to stop beating after this moment. Like nothing will feel the way this kiss feels again. I don’t ever want to forget the weight of his mouth or the way that his eyes transform into a darker blue when they’re full of desire. I want to study the slide of his hands against my body. I want, I want, and Iwantwhen it comes to him, and one taste is never going to be enough.
I knew that. It’s why I’ve stopped myself from doing exactly this.
