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“Here.” He retrieves a stack of clothes from his side of the closet and hands it to me. “You can sleep in these.”
The T-shirt and cotton basketball shorts are soft and worn in. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” He disappears into the bathroom. “I have another pair.”
I press the fabric to my cheek. How many nights has he slept in these?
He strolls out a minute later. “Bathroom’s all yours.”
I yank the shirt away from my face. Great. He almost caught me acting like a creep. I grab a pair of panties and rush into the bathroom, where I slip on Matthew’s oversized shirt, tug on the most appropriate underwear I could find, and eye the basketball shorts. They’ll be too big. The shirt already hits below my knees. This should be fine.
I tuck my hair into a bun and return to the bedroom. Matthew is in bed, wearing the same pajamas as me.
“We match,” I chuckle.
But instead of the jovial mirth usually dancing in his eyes, there’s a darkness.
It unsettles me.
Nervously, my gaze slips over his tan skin against the stark white sheets. Beneath his shirt, the outline of his pecs is obvious. Matthew oozes manliness and coziness. As if tempting me to snuggle up beneath his burly arms and drown under the weight of them.
A breath catches in my throat.What am I even thinking?
“Do you think we should send out a Christmas card? Matching pj’s and all,” he jokes, snapping me out of my depraved daze.
“Maybe we can get a set for Bear.” I smile and wade over to my side of the bed, where I quickly climb beneath the covers and lie parallel to Matthew.
He is so far away. It’s like there’s an island between us. An island of neutrality.
Perfect.
“The pillowcases are nice.” He rearranges the stack of pillows beneath his head.
“They’re silk. I sampled hundreds of them before finding these.”
“It’s like sleeping on a cloud.” Matthew runs his hand over the fabric. “That was incredibly cheesy. Of course that’s what it’s supposed to feel like.”
I stifle a giggle. “Silk is better for your skin and hair. It’s especially good if you have curls like I do.”
“I guess I’ll have to get some for my bedroom at home.”
My pulse picks up again. Did he mean for himself or for me? Why am I moments away from kicking my feet and squealing at the idea of Matthew Hudson buying silk pillowcases for me?
We haven’t even discussed living together. It’s a tad soon. He must want to care for his really nice skin.
He reaches for the light switch above the bed. “Well, we should get some rest.”
I nod and tuck my knees close, keeping my eyes on him.
The room is enveloped in darkness, with only a faint glimmer of starlight seeping through the blinds. His breathing is barely audible.
My hand scoots closer toward him, and, as if he’s mirroring me, Matthew’s fingers do the same.
They remain in the neutral zone, right beside each other.
* * *
Light pinches my lids,and I stretch my legs out wide. I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.
