Page 99 of Key of Kink

So I nodded like it was nothing, as though I hadn’t just had the best sex of my life on his couch before being politely demoted to the rug. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so loaded.

He isn’t being cruel—he’s being careful.

I left the bathroom in nothing but my tee and briefs, and went to his bedroom. Max had laid out a blanket on the rug, a pillow too. Another blanket sat there, neatly folded. He was already in bed, and I wondered briefly if he was naked under that duvet.

Down boy.

I lay down on my side, facing the bed, and laid the second blanket over me.

“Are you warm enough?”

I smiled. “I’m fine.”

“I’ve set the alarm for six o’clock. I have… work in the morning.”

“That works for me. I need to be at the library by nine.” And that meant going home first for a change of clothes. Hopefully the others wouldn’t be around, because I’d have to face a barrage of questions.

“Goodnight.” The lamp clicked and the room was plunged into semi-darkness.

My evening had taken an unexpected turn. We’d gone from frantic, hot as fuck sex to me lying twelve inches or so from him and about umpteen unsaid rules hovering in the dark. My body was still humming.

My brain was not.

Max shifted above me, and I stared at the edge of the mattress.

He asked me to stay.

I got the feeling it had been an impulsive demand, and I liked that.

Actually, I liked it way too much.

I could have teased him and God knows, I’d wanted to, but this wasn’t the right time for that.

This was the moment to not make Max feel cornered.

I pulled the blanket up and let the silence settle. My heart was still doing its stupid hopeful thud, not because we’d fucked, but because I was still here.

Max shifted again, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“I can hear you thinking from down here,” I quipped.

He huffed. “Go to sleep, Quinn.”

I smiled again into the dark.

I’m on Max’s bedroom floor, close enough to hear him breathe.

That felt steady, even if everything inside me was lit up like a power surge.

Max

The flat had gone quiet.

I lay on my back, staring into the almost darkness, fully aware of the shape of him below the edge of the mattress. I could hear the subtle shift of fabric when he adjusted the blanket. The slow, measured inhale he was pretending was relaxed.

He wasn’t asleep, and he was closer than anyone had been in years.

I turned my head toward the edge of the bed. If I leaned a little, I could see the faint outline of his shoulder in the low spill of streetlight filtering through the curtains. I moved my hand, shifting it across the sheet, my fingers brushing the cool cotton where his warmth would be if the mattress extended another inch.