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This time when I close my eyes, sleep finally claims me.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Alyssa
I’m in the state where I’m still asleep, but my body’s trying to wake. I don’t want to, though. I’m fighting it. I’m so damn comfortable and warm. So warm. This bed is magic. I burrow a little deeper into the mattress, but it’s not the mattress. My hand moves out to tap my surroundings, and it’s not the mattress beneath my palm. It’s rigid and warm. I freeze, and I hear a deep chuckle. Forcing my eyes to open, I take in my current situation.
I’m not on my side of the bed. Not even close. There’s a ton of real estate on this fluffy cloudlike mattress, and I’m crowding Sterling on his side. It’s more than just crowding. My head is resting on his chest, and my legs are thrown over his. Basically, I’ve managed to wrap myself around him like a vine.
“Morning, Tink.” His voice is deep, laced with not only sleep but humor.
“Morning,” I reply, burying my face in his chest to hide my embarrassment. “I guess I became a bed hog overnight.”
“I don’t mind,” he replies gruffly.
“What are the plans for today?” I ask him, changing the subject. I lift my head from his chest and peer at him, only to find his eyes already on me.
“Just hanging out as far as I know. I heard some movement down the hall not long ago. Hopefully, it’s one of my brothers making breakfast.”
“Are you all really doing all of the cooking this weekend?”
He nods. “They wanted to give their wives a break, and we were all on board.”
“This isn’t one of those remember-when-we-did-this situations, is it? In six months from now, you and your brothers and Deacon aren’t going to be guilt-tripping us into some adventure or task as payback, are you?”
His chest vibrates with his silent laughter. I can feel the rumble beneath me. “No. This isn’t a trap.” He shakes his head.
“I’m holding you to that, Kincaid.”
He rubs his hand slowly up and down my spine. “You know I wouldn’t do that to you.”
It feels as if there is something else behind his confession. Something more than him just trying to convince me that the efforts of the men in attendance this weekend are admirable.
“Thanks for being my pillow,” I say, moving away from him. I instantly miss his heat, but I choose to ignore that. I’m also ignoring my body’s reaction to being snuggled up with him. I blame the girls and all their meddling. I’ve cuddled with my best friend thousands of times, and other than that small stint in high school, I’ve been able to look at him as just my best friend. However, this morning, that small detail was hard to focus on when I was burrowed into his warm body, with his hands trailing up and down my spine.
“I call dibs on the shower,” I say, climbing off the bed and gathering my clothes before rushing into the en suite bathroom, closing and locking the door for good measure.
I avoid looking at myself in the mirror. I don’t need to. I know what I’ll see. My cheeks will be flushed, and my chest will be heavily rising with each breath. I just hope that I managed to slip away before Sterling noticed. Leave it to me to make things awkward between us. I make a mental note to scold the girls when I can get them away from the guys. They did this. They put these crazy ideas in my head, and now my body is no longer my own. Sterling is hot as hell, but it’s been years.Yearssince I’ve responded to him in any way other than friendship. They cursed me, and you can bet your ass I’m going to give them hell for it.
* * *
By the time I open the bathroom door, our room is empty. I hear loud voices and laughter from down the hall, and I assume that Sterling is one of them. Placing my dirty clothes in the mesh laundry bag that I brought, I pull in a deep breath before leaving the room and making my way to the kitchen.
“There she is.” Archer smiles. “We thought Sterling had you tied to the bed or something,” he jokes.
The room erupts with laughter, and I can feel the heat spread to my cheeks. “More like I’d tie him to the bed,” I joke. I hope that I appear unaffected by his words. I bend over and pretend to be messing with the bracelet on my ankle, hoping I can blame my red cheeks on the blood rushing to my face from bending over.
When I stand up, everyone has long since forgotten my reply and Archer’s dig and has moved on to what we should do today.
“I vote absolutely nothing,” Brooks says. He’s standing behind Palmer with his arms around her, his hands resting over their unborn daughter.
I admit my heart melts when I see these guys with their wives. It’s definitely relationship goals. I want what they have.
“Agreed,” Deacon chimes in. “I marry the love of my life next week. Just relaxing before the chaos of all the wedding stuff sounds perfect.”
“What chaos?” Palmer asks. “Your bride has it all worked out. It’s a small affair. Everything is going to be perfect,” she tells her brother.
Deacon’s eyes soften as they look between his fiancée, Ramsey, and his little sister. “Regardless of what happens, the day will be perfect because, at the end of the day, I get to call this one”—he points to Ramsey—“my wife.”
