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“I’m glad I didn’t take those stairs all the way down,” I decided suddenly, out of the blue. “I’m glad I turned into Izzy’s hall and ran into you instead.”
Wick inhaled the scent of my hair. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
18
Wick
I woke with Haven on top of me. Again.
The night before, we’d watched the rest of the game on my laptop together. Or rather, I watched it. Haven fell asleep, only to miss seeing her boyfriend—sorry, ex-boyfriend—throw two more interceptions.
We still won, though, thanks to the kicker, defense, and a running back who scored the only offensive touchdown. I nudged her and said her name to let her know the game was over, but she didn’t wake, so I just shut the laptop and then scooted down in order to lie next to her. And sometime throughout the night, she ended up on top of me.
This made two out of the four nights she’d lived here that she’d slept on me. We were beginning to make a habit of it. I hoped it became a regular occurrence.
Shit. Wait. No, I wasn’t supposed to want that, was I? She was Nicholl’s girl. Ex-girl. Whatever. I should think of her as used-up leftovers. Except that was frankly impossible. She was way too intriguing for that, and I liked waking up with her on top of me. Being around her took me to a different place.
She’d told me I wasn’t what she’d expected me to be like. Well, I felt the same exact way about her.
I’d formed this thought in my head that she’d be uppity and full of herself, maybe even snobbish and too chic and beautiful to glance down her nose at less worthy beings. I mean, she’d dated Topher for three years; I was sure some of him had to have rubbed off in some way.
Except, she wasn’t like that at all. She had this down-to-earth, accepting quality I never would’ve guessed about her, and she didn’t even pretend to put on airs. She was just… Haven, tough yet fragile, stubborn while also strangely adaptable. She didn’t try to be perfect or expect perfection from others; she was just struggling through to figure things out, exactly like the rest of us. Underneath her flawless beauty, she was merely human.
I think that surprised and enchanted me most of all.
Closing my eyes, I buried my nose in her hair and breathed her in. “I’m so glad he didn’t mold you into something other than what you are right now,” I whispered. Because I liked this girl. My nose brushed her earlobe. I liked her a lot.
Knowing I should probably do something about this erection I had going on, though, before she woke up and noticed it, I eased her off me, covered her with my blanket and crept into my bathroom.
I took another shower—grinding my teeth when I had to shut the fucking bathroom door again—and then found my way to the kitchen to start some eggs and toast.
She stumbled in just as I was dishing the eggs into a bowl.
“I fell asleep on your bed.”
I glanced at her, and dammit… Why did just looking at her stir things inside me? She was disheveled and blurry-eyed, still wearing the jeans and shirt she’d worn yesterday. A sleep crease sliced through one of her cheeks. Her hair was a masterpiece of artful disarray. And she still took my breath away.
She looked so soft and approachable that I had to fight back the urge to drop the spatula in my hand so I could go to her and nuzzle my face into the nook of her neck while I tucked her into my arms and just held her before I hiked her up onto the nearest counter, stepped between her spread thighs, and fucked her senseless.
Gripping the spatula for dear life, I turned back to the eggs. “Yeah, I sort of noticed.”
“I totally didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry. I don’t usually just drop off like that.”
“It’s fine.” Grabbing the eggs and toast, I turned back around. And shit, she still had that strong, magnetic, punched-in-the-gut effect on me, even though I was fully prepared and braced for it this time. Clearing my throat, I nodded to the food, focusing on that. “Want some eggs and toast? I have plenty.”
And I had plenty because I’d made sure to cook enough for her too, even though I had no idea if she’d be up early enough to eat or even if she liked eggs and toast. This compulsion to protect and provide for her was swelling in me; I couldn’t seem to stop it.
“Holy wow,” she murmured, her eyebrows lifting as she studied the food. “You really do have enough, probably to serve a small army.”
I nodded. “Yeah, even after living away from home for three years, it’s still hard for me to cook for only one, which is weird since I only cooked for my family maybe once a month when I did live at home.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” she announced brightly, patting her belly. “Because I like to eat.” She moved to meet me at the table where she glanced over the service settings before she shifted to the cupboards to automatically chip in and extract plates and silverware for both of us. “I will gladly help you with your excess food problem.” When she started to set the table, however, she paused and wrinkled her brow as if confused. “Wait. No bacon?”
“Uh, no. Sorry, I don’t have any. I don’t eat a lot of greases, or fat, or junk food during the season.”
She blinked. “The season?”
“The football season,” I reminded her.
