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“You going to leave the roses right there?” I ask, watching as Daisy darts around the living room and straightens things up.
“For now,” she says, grabbing a throw blanket and folding it carefully before she places it on the back of the couch. “My bedroom can be kind of dark throughout the day and the roses need light.”
I’d sort of hoped she’d keep it on her nightstand and always think about me when she’s in bed, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers or however that saying goes.
“Do you want something to drink? Or eat?” She twists her hands together, her fingers curled, her nervousness radiating from her.
Slowly I shake my head, making my way toward her. Drawn to her like a moth to a flame, a magnet to steel. Sappy thoughts run through my head when it comes to Daze, and I blame the damn romance book I read. The one that fueled my imagination and made me think of all the things I can do to Daisy. Things she’d like.
Things she might do to me.
I stop only when I’ve got my arms around her waist, my hands splayed across the narrow expanse of her back. She’s a tiny thing. Not very tall and she weighs nothing. I remember how I slung her over my shoulder yesterday and wonder why she hasn’t told me to kick rocks already.
But she doesn’t tell me to leave when I get my hands on her. Nope, she puts her hands on me, resting them on my chest, her fingertips burning through the layers of clothes I’ve got on. I want to feel her hands on my bare skin and I want to put my hands on her too.
I want to make her mine. Mark her in places no one else can see. Hell, mark her in places everyone can see so they know she’s my girl. I want everyone to smell me on her.
I want to smell her on me.
“Arch…” Her voice trails off and she takes a deep breath, like she’s trying to work up the courage to speak. “I’m nervous.”
I kiss her forehead. “I already said you don’t have to worry about it. The moment you say stop, I’ll stop.”
“I just—I don’t want to take it too far yet. Like what we did yesterday.”
I frown. “You regret it?”
She slowly shakes her head. “No, but I don’t know if I’m ready for…everything. Can’t we just kiss for a while instead?”
Yep. Yes. Whatever she wants, I’ll give her.
“You wanna make out on the couch.”
We turn to look at it at the same time and she wrinkles her nose. “It’s so saggy. No.”
“No?”
“How about we go to my bedroom?” Her delicate brows lift.
Triumph surges through me. I get her on a bed and who knows where things will go. “Okay.”
TWENTY-FIVE
DAISY
I’ma nervous wreck and I hate how jumpy my emotions make me feel. Guilt swamps me at having Arch in my house without my father’s knowledge. If he knew we were here unsupervised, he wouldn’t like it. It feels like I’m breaking all sorts of rules, letting Arch into our home. My room.
The moment he enters the tiny space, it’s as if he sucks up all the air, leaving me breathless. His tall, broad frame seems even taller and broader in here with me, and I stand there helplessly, while he looks his fill, seeming to drink in every detail of my private sanctuary.
“I like your room,” he declares once he’s facing me. He shrugs out of his jacket, dropping it on the desk chair that’s right next to him. “It feels like you.”
“Feels like me how?” I’m curious at his choice of words—specifically the feel part.
“All warm and cozy, I don’t know.” He shrugs, seemingly uncomfortable, and I marvel at this for a moment. Is he nervous too? He’s always so confident and sure of himself. Charming and irresistible.
“You think I’m warm and cozy?” I don’t take the words as an insult.
“You’re all sorts of things, Daze.” He stares at me for a moment, his gaze tracing over my face as if he’s trying to memorize it. “I have a request.”
