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“Uh…” Remembering I’d set it on the floor, leaning against my nightstand, before going to bed, I stretched down and pulled it up, handing it over.
She flipped the screen up and began typing madly.
Glancing over her shoulder, I frowned as she went online. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m going to see if there are any episodes of this Night Court on YouTube.”
“Holy shit,” I said in awe as I watched her log into the network. “That’s genius. Why the hell did I never think to do that?” I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed my glasses so I could see the screen with her.
She sent me a pleased grin as she shifted to tuck the blanket more firmly under her armpits, only to pause. From the glow of the computer screen, I was able to see her eyes widen when she caught sight of me in my frames, and suddenly, she seemed to realize she wasn’t wearing any clothes.
“You know what,” she started, passing the laptop to me. “How about you find the show? I’ll go change.”
I shrugged as I took control of the laptop. “Okay. But honestly, I don’t mind what you’re wearing now.”
With a snort, she muttered, “Except I’m not wearing anything.”
I glanced at her. “Like I said, I really don’t mind.”
“Just find the show, pervert.” She shoved at my arm playfully before grabbing the large T-shirt she’d come in wearing. After slipping it on over her head, she dropped the blanket and started to crawl off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
I caught her ankle.
She glanced at me with raised eyebrows.
I raised mine right back. “You swear you’re coming back?”
“Yes.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “Besides, look. No more tears.”
I studied her face a moment before murmuring, “So there’s not.” Then my eyes met hers as I repeated, “So you’re coming back, right?”
With an amused smile, she crawled back to me and lightly sifted her fingers across my brow to move some of my hair out of my eyes. Then she said, “Yes. I’m coming back.” And she kissed my forehead.
Hopping off the mattress, she winked at me before hurrying from the room. I watched her go and pressed my hand to my brow, exactly where she’d kissed me.
Damn, I was screwed.
This girl fucking owned me.
25
Haven
I woke up on top of Wick.
“Not again,” I groaned, even as I burrowed deeper against him because he was really warm and comfortable.
After I had returned to his room last night with full pajama pants on, underwear, and a thick cotton shirt, we’d stayed up late watching Night Court. And in the midst of coming to adore the characters—Harry T. Stone, Bull, Mac, Roz, Christine, and even Dan—I fell asleep with my head on Wick’s shoulder, only to end up on top of all of him by morning.
This was becoming a routine. Seriously, Wick was going to kick me out if I kept falling asleep on him like this.
Or maybe not.
Freezing when I started to crawl off him, only to realize he had some serious morning wood going on, I zipped my gaze to his face, worried that I’d awoken him by moving so much.
But he slept on, his mouth partially open and face tipped to the side away from me.
Hurrying off him, I started to cover him with the blankets when I accidentally skimmed my gaze over his lap area and my eyes landed on the bulge.
