Page 36 of Can’t Say No

He sits straight up, a wide smile on his face. “Wouldn’t want you any other way.”

We quickly remake the futon with the blankets and pillows from the floor.

“No cuddling,” I say, pulling the blanket up to my chin and rolling to face the wall.

“But cuddling is the best part about sharing a bed!” Connor teases, dutifully rolling onto his half of the futon.

“Ew, no. I have a hard-and-fast rule about that. No cuddling, no spooning, no spending the night.”

The futon dips and groans as Connor rolls back towards me. “For real? You don’t let your partners stay the night?”

I fight back a nervous laugh, the conversation suddenly taking a personal turn. “It sounds weird when you say it that way, but uh… yeah, I like my space. I like waking up alone.”

“Wow, Delaney. Wouldn’t have thought that about you.” The sarcasm is tangible. “You give off big cuddle me vibes.” Connor jabs my ribs with his elbow. “That warm and bubbly personality of yours just screams hold me all night.”

I roll my eyes into the darkness. “Har har har. You’re hilarious. Should quit your day job and pursue comedy.”

I roll over, the small futon creaking beneath us. The moonlight is bright enough to trace Connor’s sharp jaw, full lips, those soft eyes. He is comfort and danger all wrapped up in one. His body radiates heat, and the closeness gives me pause.

I don’t like to cuddle. Don’t like the intimacy of lingering. I like a good romp as much as the next girl, but I’ll only share my bed long enough to get what I want, a good hard fuck and then a quick goodbye, after they sign an NDA of course. But lying here with Connor, moonlight painting a picture of the perfect Prince Charming, I’m starting to see the appeal.

An involuntary sigh escapes my lips, and I press just a smidge closer.

Without hesitation, he responds, reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair back behind my ear. “Didn’t mean to get too personal, Lanie.”

“How’d you know that’s what I was thinking.”

“Because I know you,” he says, hand stilling on the side of my neck. “Might’ve been a while, but I’ve always been pretty good at reading you.”

He’s right. And that feeling, of being so deeply known, threatens to crack my heart wide open. I feel the prick of tears at the corner of my eyes, emotion bubbling dangerously to the surface.

This is why I don’t fucking cuddle.

The temps must’ve dropped overnight because I wake up shivering. Rolling towards the wall of windows, I see the early morning sun peeking through the mountains, and shit, you just don’t get views like this in L.A. The leaves are still unchanged in Ridgecrest, but up here in this mountain town, the trees are putting on quite the show.

I hate to admit it, but I’ve missed autumn in Tennessee. Reminds me of being a dumb kid running through the Major’s orchard, throwing rotten apples at Connor. The mushy insides would explode like little bombs. He thought it was disgusting, I thought it was hilarious.

Connor inched closer and closer to me all night. Every time he brushed against me, he’d mumble a sleepy apology and scoot away, acutely aware of my aversion to cuddling even in his sleep. The thoughtfulness alone was enough to warm me from the inside out. Add in the fact that he’s six-foot-something of solid muscle, and I was borderline overheated all night long.

Which explains why I’m so damn cold now. Connor wiggled out of bed an hour ago for a run. He halfheartedly tried to convince me to join him, but there was no way in hell I was going for a run before the sun came up.

I can hear Mrs. Crane banging around in the kitchen below, which means I need to get up and help with breakfast prep, even if I’m not much of an asset in the kitchen. But especially after the fuck-up with the reservation, my need to prove myself is burning hotter than ever.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Connor’s head pops up over the railing as he climbs the stairs to the loft, his full, broad, shirtless body coming into view. Sweat glistens across his chiseled chest and I can’t help myself.

Pushing up to sit at the top of the futon bed, I openly stare. “Damn, Connor. I swear you’ve gained ten pounds of muscle since I’ve been home.” Each individual ab is perfectly defined, his pecs dark and toned.

A blush creeps onto his face. “Not gonna lie, I’ve been putting in a little extra work at the gym. Figured if I was gonna be on all these gossip sites, I should look like I belong. Gotta make it seem believable that you’d pick me.”

That admission makes my stomach flip-flop. “Connor, you didn’t need to do that! Trust me, you were plenty hot before. You definitely look the part.”

He simply lifts a shoulder in a half shrug, breezing right past my compliment. “I gotta shower then I’m on pancake duty. Think you can handle getting the batter started?”

“Sounds fairly idiot-proof, but time will tell.”

Students emerge from the bunk rooms, with messy hair and sweatpants, and sleep in their eyes. Our bus driver, Mr. Ralph, gets a fire going in the big stone hearth. Even Mrs. Crane seems surprisingly relaxed.