“One.”
She deflates. “Oh.”
“I turned on my fairy lights, buried my face in the pillow you used, and went back to sleep.”
Softness rivals her scowl until it’s overcome with relief. Care. Maybe even love.
I try my luck pushing it. “Did you know that your hair smells like lavender?”
“Yeah? It’s the shampoo I pick. Of course I know the scent of my shampoo.”
“Did you know that the sleep-aid sprays you got me are lavender?”
Her gaze travels, then she says, “Oh, yeah. I guess they were.”
“Dream goddess indeed.”
She…winces.
Then she turns her back on me and continues up the hall.
Mm. Yeah. Don’t like that.
I close the distance between us, adjusting the sack of Lukas’s excess laundry. She keeps plodding on, eyes steady ahead. I ask, “Have you relapsed?”
“What?”
“You’ve reconsidered how close we’ve been getting, and you’re getting scared, so you’re closing off again.”
She stops short and turns wide eyes on me. “Am I?”
I…do not like that tone.
“Wow,” she breathes, dropping Lukas’s hamper. “Thank you so much for letting me know. I’ll remedy this at once. Would you like to kiss me against this wall?” She tosses her thumb over her shoulder. “Or should I pin you to that one?” She points past me.
I glance behind me. And, well, if we’re being perfectly honest with each other and not sarcastic at all…
I’d like to be pinned.
A hand hits my chest, knocking the breath from my lungs. I lose my grasp on Lukas’s laundry, then I lose my ability to think as my hips hit the wainscotting.
Morana’s nails nip into my jaw as she grips my chin, forcing my attention down to her as though she assumes it could possibly be anywhere else. “Better?” she whispers.
“Yes, thank you.”
“To clarify, I’m notrelapsing, and not everything is about you.”
I swallow. “I apologize for my narcissistic behavior. It’s unbecoming of your life’s mate.”
“You’re forgiven.” She swipes her thumb along my jaw. “It’s…not like I make it easy to feel comfortable in relationships with me.”
“Relationships?” I echo.
Her gaze falls.
I lift her chin, so we’re both standing here in the hall, gripping each other’s faces like functional adults. “We’re in a relationship?”
Her brows knit. “Are we…not?”
