Page 79

I flipped sides for the millionth time, coming face to face with the goose-feather-filled barricade I’d reconstructed after dinner. If only I’d left an opening to peek at him. Was he tossing and turning, thinking about sharing a bed? Or was he off to dreamland like this was no big deal?

Did he end up taking his shirt off?

“I can hear you thinking, Graciella.” Monroe’s voice caused me to leap damn near out of the bed.

Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, bathing the room in a subtle glow. Still, it wasn’t enough to allow me to make out the details of his face.

The cotton pillowcase brushed the underside of my arm as I reached over, searching for his⁠—

“Ow. What the hell?” He swatted away my hand.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I was trying to tell if your eyes were open or closed.”

“Why wouldn’t you just ask instead of poking me in the eye?”

Of course his sleepy tone is hot.

I batted away the thought. The last thing I needed was to add that to the growing list of things I liked about him. For days, I’d been a jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings. Of revelations I was trying really hard to ignore.

“Did you need something, or you just wanted to assault me?” he grumbled, shaking me from my inner thoughts.

“I can’t sleep.”

His sigh competed with the rustling of blankets, and the mattress dipped where he pushed up on an elbow. My heart picked up speed when his head popped into view, the dusting of facial hair along his jaw darker in the shadowed lighting. His typical furrowed brow softened, and the harsh line of his mouth tugged up a fraction higher than normal.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

His voice was patient—sincere—which only made my stomach twist.

“I’ve never slept with a man.” I slapped a hand over my loose lips.

“You’re a virgin?” His brows damn near flew off his forehead.

I barked out a laugh. “What? No? I mean, I’ve never slept with someone. Like, closed my eyes at nighttime and shared a bed.” I lowered my voice, knowing this whole confession was stupid. “I don’t know how⁠—”

Monroe’s baritone laugh cut me off.

“You ass.” I swung over the pillows, aiming for the side of his head, but he dodged. “I shared a vulnerability with you, and you laugh?”

One by one, the pillows between us disappeared, and with them, my only protection from him.

Thank god he has a shirt.

But also, fuck, he has a shirt…

“Having something to actually put your head on is helpful.” He reached over the top of me, his hand slipping under my head and fingers threading through my hair. My heart stopped. Heat prickled where his rough pads dug in. Blue eyes locked on mine as our faces drew closer. “There,” he said, tucking a pillow under my head and setting me back down gently. He moved back to his side.

Monroe’s touch lingered like a ghost, taunting me. Making me imagine what it’d be like to have him do it again—all over.

Silence pervaded the room.

The only sounds were our synced breaths as we lay on our backs, hands resting on our chests. Pretending that it wasn’t only inches separating us.

“Is this it?” I asked, unable to handle the quiet.

“Is what it, Graciella?”

That deep tone snaked over my body like a caress.