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I climbed under the blankets, pulling all the bedding up over my head to lock in my body heat as well as I could, then overthinking myself to sleep, hoping I had cocooned myself well enough to not get hypothermia or something like that.
I woke up with the sensation of the world falling away, making my entire body jolt like a hypnic jerk.
“Shh,” a voice murmured, and the closeness of it had me jerking again.
It was then that I understood why the world had fallen away.
Because I’d been lifted up off my mattress, and was being held against someone’s chest.
I knew that fear should have overtaken me then. A single woman being carried out of bed in the middle of the night.
But I was in the biker clubhouse. Safer than I could be anywhere else.
And, besides, the chest I was resting against was absurdly wide. The arms around me were massive, strong, yet gentle. Then there was the familiar scent of him. Something masculine, strong but not overpowering.
I knew exactly who had me in his arms.
“You’re sleeping in my bed tonight,” he said in response to the jolt, holding me a little tighter as he started to walk toward the door.
I probably should have insisted I could walk.
Did I do that, though?
No. No, I did not.
I cuddled in.
I rested my cheek against his wide chest, letting his warmth seep in as he walked into the hall, then his room.
He’d already turned back the bedding and had my sea cow on the spot waiting for me as he lowered me down. Then he carefully tucked me in, making sure the blankets were covering everything but my face.
“Where are you going?” I called when he turned to go toward the door.
“I’ll crash downstairs,” he said, voice low.
“No. I’m not kicking you out of your room,” I said. “I won’t make you watch any more cheesy fall romances,” I added, watching as he turned back with a smirk. “Unless you like them,” I added, seeing his lips twitch. “You totally like them,” I said, smile spreading as I watched him.
“There’s… a certain small-town charm to them,” he decided with a shrug. “And if they might inspire you to bake some more shit…” he added, coming back to the bed to grab the remote, turning it back to my channel, then getting in beside me.
We didn’t talk about it.
Any of it.
We just watched a movie with a bit of a caper—Who spiked the pumpkin spice coffee at the Harvest Festival?!—then drifted off to sleep.
This time when I woke up, Detroit was turned away from me, and I was cuddled into his warmth, doing an imitation of spooning, but my much smaller body made a really poor big spoon.
His body was still, so I let myself enjoy the closeness and warmth for an embarrassingly long time before I finally turned away, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t disappointed that I didn’t wake up on top of him again.
Eventually, the sounds of the house had both of us climbing off of each side of the bed, and getting our days started.
All the while, I had a sudden craving for a pumpkin spice latte. And the feel of Detroit’s weight on me in bed.
CHAPTER NINE
Detroit
The bell rang, ushering in a man who would ruin any chances of picking up a stubborn-ass Everleigh from her bed, and depositing her in mine, so I could feel her cuddling up against me in her sleep.
