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Ignoring the impulse, I moved away from him to grab a pair of pajamas and darted into the bathroom myself. I spent more time in there than I needed to, nervous about climbing under the covers with him.
We’d done this the night before, but this time we’d both be cognizant and fully aware of what was happening. It suddenly made everything feel so much more intimate.
Cursing myself for being such a weenie, I yanked open the door to find he’d already crawled under the covers. But he wasn’t asleep. He instantly sat upright, his bright blue eyes wide and worried as if he were scared shitless he’d done something wrong. The blankets fell down his chest, pooling around his waist, and I blinked over how spectacularly beautiful he was, even bruised and half-beaten to death.
There was a gorgeous guy in my bed. How freaking bizarre was that?
“Is this okay?” he asked uncertainly, poised as if ready to jump off the mattress if need be.
I started to nod, but then felt funny about admitting just how okay I thought he looked in my sheets. Cheeks flushing, I said, “Can you move to the other side?” hoping the question would hide what I was really thinking.
“Oh! Yeah, sure.” He hurried to scoot over. “I’m sorry, was I on your side?”
I should’ve gone with that theory, yes, he’d taken my side, but instead, I stupidly admitted, “I have no idea. I’ve always slept in the middle.”
When he glanced at me as if confused why I’d made him move, I cleared my throat and flushed even harder. “That side just looked better,” I mumbled.
Yes, I was a moron.
“Oh.” He still looked perplexed, but he said, “Okay,” and settled onto the new side without argument.
I just stood there, watching, unable to move. Was I really supposed to just tiptoe over there now with my bare feet and oversized T-shirt and crawl into bed with him?
Ugh, I guess so. After turning off the main light, I haltingly started forward, gaining Beckett’s attention. His lips parted and his shoulders rose half an inch as if he were drawing in a deep breath. His eyes followed me as I moved around to the side I’d just stolen from him and lifted the sheet enough to slide under the covers.
I reached for the nightlight and clicked that off. Then I lay stiffly, staring through the dark up at the ceiling. Thirty seconds later, I frowned and shifted. Then I squirmed again. Okay, this wasn’t working.
“Actually, can we change sides?”
He huffed out a laugh but said, “Yep.”
I hopped out of bed and raced around in the dark to the other side. When I heard Beckett shift back to his original spot, I crawled in with him again. Almost as soon as I sank into the cushion, I moaned. “Oh God, yes. This is definitely better.”
“It is, isn’t it?” he murmured.
His voice raced through me, making me shiver. Damn. Oh, damn. We’d just picked sides of the bed.
I shifted around some more, getting comfortable even though this was all so awkward and new. For some reason, we both ended up on our sides facing each other, him resting his cheek against one pillow, me resting mine against another. Neither of us spoke as we just watched each other through the moonlight filtering through the window that I’d forgotten to draw the curtains closed to.
Finally, he whispered, “Thank you, Bailey.”
I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head. “I really don’t want a thank you.”
“Then what do you want?”
My eyes sprang open. I knew he wasn’t offering sexual favors, or anything like that, in exchange for room and board, and that’s not what I wanted from him, anyway.
Well, not really.
But a small, guilty, private part of me ached for something close to that.
What did I want, he’d asked. What did I really want more than anything else on earth?
I wanted some kind of connection to another human being, physical contact, emotional ties, a spiritual bond, anything. I knew I complained about what Tess and Paige had with the
ir guys. But that was only because deep down, I wanted what they had. I wanted to know I was capable of being loved. I wanted to feel I was sensual enough to turn a man on and get turned on myself by him. I wanted the whole nine yards of an ooey-gooey, gag-me relationship.
As Beck Hilliard’s bright blue eyes bored into mine and his question echoed through my head, I could think of no other answer but that.
