“I don’t snore!”
“Of course you do,” he murmurs, finding my hand to hold in the dark. “Like a chainsaw.”
I laugh, but it morphs into a yawn. “And I gave that impression… how?”
His voice is muffled against the back of my neck. “No one can be this perfect.”
My heart stutters. When I came here tonight, I told myself I wanted something simple. Being with Jude was supposed to be my way of proving that I can have the sort of no-strings hookups that ward against heartbreak. If I were following my own rules, I wouldn’t be staying the night. But right now, my legs have the structural integrity of a pair of Slinkies, and my will to leave his embrace is even weaker.
Because tonight was anything but simple. It altered me in ways I’m only beginning to process. So much so that I don’t even question the last thought I have before drifting to sleep.
That maybe “simple” isn’t what I want at all. Maybe, I want to be tied up in all his strings, just so he can unravel me like a pretty little bow.
27JUDE
Three Weeks Before the Wedding
Somehow, even only semiconscious, I know I’ve never had a better night’s sleep in my life—until my usual alarm of claws presses threateningly into my exposed foot. With difficulty, I resist kicking Taco away, knowing from experience that she’ll only dig in deeper.Dammit.
I don’t want to get up. Not when the source of all my bone-deep contentment is still lying half-sprawled across my chest.Gracie.
An irrepressible sigh escapes me, because now, I guess I’m a sigher. I fucking knew I was in trouble the first time I saw her at Nana’s memorial, but I had no idea how bad it would be. Even after she became the one person I want to share every secret with—I told myself it was fine. There have been so many obstacles between us that I was convinced nothing would happen beyond our kiss.
But then last night…
I fucking sigh again.
Last night.
It changed everything. I couldn’t have been more worn-out and heartsick after dinner with my mom. But then Gracie knocked on my door, tear-stained and needingme.
My idiotic heart works itself into a knot of pride and longing, while farther south, desire slides into my belly, so thick and hot, I have to close my eyes.
I exhale. My specific… proclivities have never bled into myeveryday life before. Usually, when I’ve been with other women, whatever caretaking I do is artificial. Scenes have clear beginnings and endings. But with Gracie, there are no boundary lines around the ways I wish I could take care of her. And last night, she finally let me have a fraction of what I want from her. She choseme, and I was too shell-shocked to question it. Even if it meant betraying my best friend.
I wince as the guilt I’ve been staving off throws a brick directly at my chest. I wish it would throw another. After our first kiss, I looked Henry in the eyes and told him I wouldn’t touch her again. But now, my fingertips are being cradled by the soft dip of her spine, and her dark hair is spilling over my shoulder like ink I want to make permanent. It’s too much to believe.
But somehow, impossibly, she’s here. And so is myfuckingcat.
Taco sinks her claws a little deeper in warning, and I acquiesce. Pressing a kiss to Gracie’s messy bangs, I gingerly begin to slide out from under her. She makes a quiet moan that goes straight to my dick when I manage to extricate myself, but she doesn’t wake. Taco, pleased that I’ve obeyed her commands, sits on the foot of the bed, cleaning her paws like they’ve been sullied.
I glare at her in silent communication.You couldn’t let me enjoy five more minutes of the best night of my life?She glares right back.No.
Grumbling, I get up and stalk to her bedroom. She’s only ever affectionate with me while I’m feeding her, and pathetically, I usually eat it up. But right now, I’ve got Gracie in my bed—a woman who has single-handedly turned my whole personality inside out, ripped out the seams, and resewn it into a shape meant to hold someone. To holdher.
Which is why I don’t linger over the opportunity to pet my evil cat. Once she’s eating, I hurry downstairs to make coffee and breakfast for Gracie. With any luck, it’ll help coax the reason she came to me last night. Or at the very least, give her strength for everything we didn’t get to do last night.
When I make it back up to the room with a rummaged breakfast, I toe open the door and find Gracie awake and…petting Taco?
Trying not to drop the tray, I cross the threshold like I’m enteringanother dimension. Gracie’s dark hair is down now, messy around her pale shoulders, and the early morning sun paints her every outline like a brush dipped in light.
The door squeaks, and she looks up at me briefly before smiling back at Taco. “I can’t believe you said she was mean!”
“Did I say mean?” I say faintly. “I meant despotic.”
“I think the word you’re looking for ispurr-fect,” she coos, scratching Taco behind the ear.
“Please just be careful,” I warn, approaching the bed. “Her favorite snack is human flesh.”
