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“Like kissing you again?”
“Grace.” I turned my back to her, even though I didn’t want to. I wanted nothing more than to kiss her right now—more than kiss her. I wanted to run my fingers down her spine to see if her skin was as soft as I thought it might be. I wanted to see her without any clothing at all, for her to wrap her legs around me while I explored her body to see if she felt as perfect as she looked.
Grace sighed, rolling over herself. The gap between us in the bed felt humungous, and the quilt was pulled so tightly that there was a mild chill running down my back. I loosened my grip on the covers so it wasn’t so tent-like in the middle, and it alleviated it somewhat, but not entirely.
“Night,” I said quietly.
“Goodnight,” she whispered back, tugging the quilts as she shifted, curling her legs up to her body.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d somewhat rejected her—for all the flirting in the bathroom with the clothes, it was just that. Flirting. I hadn’t intended on anything more happening tonight, but her insinuation of kissing me again was a dangerous one. I wanted her so badly that if I let her kiss me, if I kissed her back, we might cross the line that would well and truly blur our entire relationship.
I wouldn’t regret it, but I knew she might.
And I didn’t want her to regret it.
I didn’t want her to regret me. It was selfish, but true.
Grace moved again, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. She shuffled across the bed until her back was pressed against mine and I could smell her shampoo as her hair spread across the pillows.
I didn’t move a muscle, waiting to see if she’d move away again.
She didn’t.
My fingers twitched with the need to reach out and touch her, and before I knew what I was doing, I was rolling over onto my other side. I slid one arm under her neck and nestled my body against hers, tucking her into me, and she pushed one foot between mine in a small embrace.
She leant up, reached back, and swept her hair around so it wasn’t in my face, then snuggled in closer to me. Her fingertips brushed my arm as she brought the covers under her chin, and a small sigh escaped her lips.
I tilted my face into her hair, pressing my lips softly against her hairline at the back of her neck. She shivered, and her whole body shook against mine for a second, and I smiled.
“Stop smiling,” she whispered, pressing herself further against me, wriggling as she did.
“Stop wriggling, or you won’t be smiling,” I whispered right back, feeling my cock harden again.
She stilled. “If you tell anyone about this, I’m going to kill you.”
“What? That you do, in fact, like spooning?” My lips brushed her skin with every word I spoke. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Good.” She snuggled in again, yawning. “Go to sleep.”
“You’re the one who keeps talking.”
“Oh, piss off.”
I stifled a laugh and twisted my head so I could breathe properly without nostrils full of her hair, and we both fell into an easy silence. Her breathing deepened, slowing, long before mine did.
How was I supposed to sleep like this?
With her here in my arms? So close to me? Nestled against me like she was made to mould herself against every shape of my body?
I wasn’t.
I wasn’t supposed to sleep like this.
Great.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT – GRACE
GoodMorning
