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Chapter Seven
Savannah
My pillow was moving.
As I slowly woke up, I also realized my pillow was warm.
And hard.
And my hand wasn’t grasping the fitted sheet, but the white t-shirt Ryan wore.
Oh, shit.
In all the years we’d slept in the same bed, this scenario had never happened before.
Well. That one time. After we fuc— made lo— had sex. We woke up like this then too.
But now was not the time.
No, not the time at all.
I tried to move off of his chest slowly, but...
“Why did you need Colorado?”
His voice was low and sexy, but not sleepy.
Ryan didn’t hold me to him; he let me move away.
But I knew he wasn’t going to drop the conversation. It was in the tone of his words. He was settled for a conversation, no matter how difficult it would be for me.
And it was going to be difficult. I needed to figure out my angle.
“I need coffee for this conversation. And to brush my teeth,” I managed to say, slightly embarrassed by my sleep-thickened voice.
Before I could climb out of bed, his hand shot out and he grabbed my forearm. “No.”
Shocked at his refusal, I finally looked, taking all of him in.
His face looked tired. His jawline showcased a deeper scruff than yesterday. His white t-shirt looked like I’d been holding on for dear life for a lot longer than a few minutes.
And his eyes...
They looked determined.
“I know you, Savannah. I know damn well you’re going to step away and your brain is going to move a million miles a minute, and then once you’ve had your coffee and you’ve started your day, you’ll come up with a hundred new excuses why we can’t have this conversation. I let it go yesterday. I’m not letting it go today. So settle in.” His words were serious, but that last bit...
It was jovial in tone and the side of his mouth quirked up.
“I...”
Didn’t know what to say, that was what.
“Just talk to me, Sav. What happened? We used to talk about everything, and if that night truly meant nothing, if you truly thought it was a mistake, it would not have affected our friendship,” he said, going straight for the jugular.
My face, I was sure, was ten shades of red, and the center of my chest itched in a way I knew was not going to go away.
“Please let me go,” I whispered, now avoiding his eyes. Instead, I locked my eyes on the center of his shirt, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest.
