Page 104 of Lease to Love

I shifted, and the pleasant ache between my thighs immediately reminded me of the two rounds that followed the first.

I bit back a laugh. Of course he was an all-night man.

My cheeks heated as memories came rushing back, and I buried my face against his chest to hide the smile spreading across it.

Then my brain caught up with the rest of me.

And the questions started crowding in: What did this make us now? What happened Monday? What was I supposed to call this when there wasn't a room full of people watching us and there was no crowd left to perform for?

I stared at the ceiling, trying to untangle the mess in my head without waking him.

Apparently, I was not as quiet as I thought.

"Thinking too loud," Roman mumbled.

I froze.

His voice was thick with sleep, his eyes still closed. His arm tightened around my waist and pulled me closer until my cheek was tucked beneath his chin.

"I wasn't saying anything."

"Didn't have to. Your brain is running laps." Roman mumbled.

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

Roman kissed the top of my head, still half-asleep.

"G'back to sleep, Sunshine."

For once, I let myself listen to him.

I closed my eyes, settled against his chest, and let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat drown out every question waiting for me in the morning.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't need an answer yet.

Chapter Thirteen

Roman

"My brother knows I'm here," I told her. "Don't get any ideas."

Summer didn't even look up from what she was doing. "Your brother likes me better than you. He'd happily be my alibi."

I just grunted. She was probably right.

She smiled, pleased with herself, and went right back to work.

Summer had a pair of little silver scissors in one hand and my collar pinched between two fingers of the other, her tongue poking into the corner of her cheek with the same concentration she gave anything she deemed worthy of fixing.

We were standing in the middle of her apartment, surrounded by the warm scent of apple cinnamon candles and whatever vanilla perfume she'd sprayed into the air earlier, with the late-afternoon sun pouring through the front windows and turning everything gold.

She'd insisted there was a loose thread on my shirt before we left, and apparently the fact that I hadn't noticed it myself was a personal offense.

"Hold still."

"I am holding still."

"You're breathing at it."