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“Lie back and stretch your arms over your head.”
“Oh, you want me to pose for you?” I arch my back, trying to be as graceful as possible.
“That’s nice.”
I can’t see him now but I hear the clink of his belt buckle. The ticking of his zipper and the rustle of his pants. Tingles of anticipation skitter over my skin.
The bed dips as he eases next to me. “Hey, buttercup.” He slides his arm under my head, encouraging me to cuddle up to him. “Ahh,” he lets out in a contented sigh. “That’s better.”
I close my eyes, inhaling his clean, crisp scent—evergreen and mint. “You need skin-on-skin time with me?”
He tilts his head, looking down at me with an amused smile playing over his lips. “Exactly.”
“Will we do this every night if we live together?”
“What’s this if business about?” He slides his free hand over my side, stopping to rest on my stomach. “I want us all under the same roof.”
If only Gray understood how many promises I’ve heard in my lifetime. Promises that were always broken. “I know.”
He tilts his head, studying the room. “I meant what I said. It looks really nice in here.”
“Thanks.” I let out a frustrated snort. “It’s not like I have a job to worry about going to. I’ve cleaned and organized my room an embarrassing number of times.”
“You need money or anything else?”
“No, I’m good.”
I close my eyes for a second, just enjoying the steady thump of his heart under my cheek. The soothing way he strokes his hand through my hair and over my back shifts me into a dreamy state.
“Tired, buttercup?”
“A little,” I mumble.
“We don’t have to go tonight.”
I’ve been mentally preparing myself for making this announcement all day. “No. I want to go.”
“Have you thought about baby names?” he asks.
I prop my chin on his chest so I can see his face. “Only since I was like ten years old.”
He chuckles, jostling me. “Tell me.”
“Well, I like Lincoln for a boy.”
“Interesting. That was my grandfather’s name.”
“Really?”
“Yup. I like it. How about for a girl?”
“I like the name Bliss.”
“Serena and Bliss…yeah, that makes sense.”
“I thought about Bliss Lauren for my grandmother.”
“She was good to you, your grandmother?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer, careful not to open a door to my past. “She let me live with her when I wasn’t safe with my mother.”
“Why weren’t you safe with your own mother?”
Warning. I sit up, instantly on the defensive. “Gray, remember how you told me talking about prison stuff was off-limits? One of those things you’re not comfortable with me asking you about?”
“Yeah,” he answers slowly.
“Well, talking about my family and past trauma is off-limits for me. Besides the stuff I’ve already told you.”
“Wait a second, Serena. That’s not the same thing.”
“I’ve dealt with it in therapy.” I want to argue that my past won’t affect my ability to be a good mother, but he hasn’t suggested that. Yet.
He hesitates, then nods. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk to me about it, you can.”
I doubt it will be the last time he brings it up, but for now he respects this boundary. And for that, I’m grateful. “Thank you.”
Downstairs, the front door slams, ending this conversation. “That must be Libby.”
“Does she bust into your room without knocking?” he asks, reaching for his pants.
“Sometimes, yeah.”
I cock my head, listening for any other sounds. “She must’ve gone into the kitchen.”
“It’s fine. We should get going, anyway.”
I scoot off the bed and collect my dress, slipping it over my head. Gray’s buckling his belt when I turn around. “I was enjoying our cuddle time.”
“Same, buttercup.”
“Serena!” Libby knocks on my door, then flings it open. “Oh, shit! Oh, no! Sorry.”
“Great, I was hoping to avoid that,” Gray grumbles. He slips into his T-shirt.
“We’re both dressed. She’ll live.” I try to sound casual, but inside I’m cringing. Emily never said I couldn’t have Gray over, but I feel like no male guests was implied. I grab a denim jacket and open my door.
No Libby in the hallway. “I probably scarred her for life,” I mutter.
Behind me, Gray snorts.
I hurry downstairs and find Libby tucked into a corner of the couch. “Sorry, sorry!” She holds up her hands. “My fault for not waiting for an answer.”
There’s no point in protesting that nothing happened. “What’s up?”
“Hi, Mr. Lock.” She waves at Gray. “Sorry ’bout that.” She focuses on me again. “I wanted to ask for a ride. But I’ll just wait until Em gets home.”
“No, we can give you a ride,” Gray offers. “Where do you need to go?”
“My friend’s house.” She rattles off the directions and it sounds like it’s on our way.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Gray on our way to the truck.
“No problem.”
Libby chats the entire way to her friend’s house. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s embarrassed about before or she’s just in a chatty mood. Either way, Gray doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he actually seems to listen. Every now and then he asks her a question or to explain some teenage lingo.
