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Shayla
By the time we land, after weather delays pushed our flight back, we’re all dragging, barely able to keep our eyes open on the drive home from the airport. I slump in my seat and groan when we pull into James’s driveway, trying to muster the energy to get out of the car.
“Come on. Let’s get inside and crash,” James says as he rubs some life into my shoulder.
I look across the street at my house, not at all looking forward to sleeping in a room near two tweens and in a single bed by myself. Funny how just two nights spent sleeping next to James has somehow altered my brain chemistry and made me crave something I shouldn’t want.
I carry Grayson cradled in one arm and Lainey in the other, her head resting on my shoulder while she sleeps. James lugs our things to his front door, and I step inside when he unlocks it and holds it open for me. Quietly, I make my way to the nursery to lay Grayson down in his crib without waking him. As I close his door behind me, I’m struck by the realization that I hate the thought of leaving him for the night.
I meet James by the front door just as he’s finished bringing everything inside. “Should have left my luggage outside,” I whisper so as not to wake Lainey. “We’re just gonna have to drag it to my house.”
He frowns and checks the time on his phone. “It’s already after midnight. Stay the night, and I’ll take them over there tomorrow.” My belly flips at the way his gaze searches mine, silently imploring me not to leave.
“I have school tomorrow. And all my stuff—my backpack is at home.”
“You left your backpack here”—he points to it next to the coffee table where I forgot I had left it—“and you know you and Lainey will sleep much better here…with us.” He lowers his voice and cups my cheek, and I lean into his touch, though I know I shouldn’t. “Please stay. At least for tonight.”
I’m already nodding before I can think it through. He smiles and presses a feather-light kiss to my cheek.
I lay Lainey down in her travel crib in Grayson’s nursery, then shuffle out into the hallway where James is waiting for me. We stare at each other silently as I think through the two choices I have now that I’ve decided to stay the night—sleep in James’s bed, presumably with him, or sleep on the couch alone.
James seems to know what I’m debating and makes the choice for me. He reaches for my hand, and I automatically take his. He squeezes mine as he leads me down the hallway to his bedroom, which I’ve never been inside of before, only ever having seen it from the outside. Standing inside his bedroom feels so much more intimate than being alone in a hotel room with him. This is his private space, and he’s inviting me to share it with him.
I look around his room as I wait for him to return with our luggage. He has a high, black, king-size bed with a patterned black and white comforter and matching black nightstands and dresser. Blackout curtains are draped open on the windows that look out to the backyard, and I’m sure it creates a comfy atmosphere when they’re closed with the soft glow of the bedside lamps.
James leaves me with my suitcase in his en-suite, which still has its original avocado-green tiles and tub that’s totally at odds with the more updated features in the rest of the house. I find that I appreciate the vintage look as I quickly wash my face, brush my teeth, and change into my last pair of clean panties and a T-shirt I stole from his closet before he came back into the room. I’m so glad that I thought to pack more panties than I needed, though I’ll still have to change for school when I run home with Lainey in the morning.
Oh shit. Mom. She’s going to have a million questions about this weekend, and I’m not in a place yet to talk about it with her. Hell, I haven’t even been able to talk about what happened with James with James. I fire off a quick text letting her know where we are, tell her I’ll see her in the morning, and then put my phone on Do Not Disturb.
James gets ready for bed after I exit the bathroom, and I’m not sure what to do now. Should I pick a side and get in bed? Wait for him to tell me which side I should sleep on? Or should I tell him I changed my mind and go sleep by myself on the couch?
In the end, I decide to climb in on the side closest to the window, too tired to stay on my feet any longer. I bury myself under the covers and inhale the clean scent of James’s laundry detergent—and him—in the sheets, deciding I like the smell of it much more than my own bed.
James turns off the lamps and slides into bed behind me. He scoots to the middle and spoons me, one arm sliding under my pillow and the other draped over my waist. We’re pressed up so close that there’s not an inch of space between my back and his chest.
The last thing I do before I fall asleep is slip my fingers in between his and drag his arm up to my chest, where I cradle it, loving the way I’m wrapped up in his body heat.
* * *
I wake with a start, thinking I heard a baby cry. I roll onto my stomach and reach for the baby monitor on the nightstand to check on Grayson and Lainey, but they’re blessedly still asleep. I give it a minute to see if they stir, and when they don’t, I roll over onto my back.
James rolls onto his back, too, snoring softly. His right arm is thrown up over his head onto his pillow, giving me a wide-open view of his shirtless chest and abs with the covers pushed low. I know I shouldn’t, but he’s so warm, and sleeping next to him is so comfortable that I follow him.
Rolling over onto my side, I gently rest my hand on his chest and hike my knee up over his leg so I can cuddle him like a body pillow. Except, when I close my eyes and try to force myself back to sleep since the sun hasn’t completely risen yet, I find my heart racing and my hand trembling slightly where it rests on his firm pec.
I have never slept better in all my life than these last few nights next to James. He’s the first person I’ve shared a bed with, other than my sisters when we were on vacation before, but that was the worst sleep I’d ever had. Well, aside from when Lainey was a newborn and woke up every other hour. Being wrapped up in James’s body heat, the little spoon to his big spoon…there’s nothing that compares to it.
I can’t help running my fingertips over his smooth chest, following a line down between his pecs, feeling the separation between his lean abs. I know that before becoming Grayson’s guardian, he used to go hiking a lot. It’s his way of forcing himself not to spend all his time isolated at home, which is his natural inclination. He says he’s gone a little soft in the months he’s been absent from the trails, back before we started going together, but there’s nothing soft about him.
Including his dick.
I snatch my hand away when I realize I’ve let it drift down past his waistband, tracing his length where it’s hardened beneath his pajama pants. My core clenches, and my hand trembles. We’ve done a lot more than just touch each other before, but this is different. His body is responding to my touch even in his sleep, and my breath quickens as I tip my head back to watch his face as I lower my hand back down, just lightly pressing against his bulge, feeling it twitch under the weight of my palm.
His eyes are still closed, but his brows twitch, and I feel awful for pawing at him when he can’t consent to my touch. I lift my hand, intending to throw myself out of his bed, when his left hand comes down on top of mine, squeezing it so that my hand is forced to squeeze his shaft through his clothing.
“Angel.” He moans the endearment, his voice husky with sleep, making my heart skip a beat. There’s a pleading look in his eyes when they pop open as he lifts his hips and squeezes my hand tighter.
I hike my knee a little higher up his firm thigh when I scoot closer to his side, pressing the length of my body against the length of his. My lower belly flutters as I begin experimentally moving my hand up and down his shaft.
