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Who was this man—this impulse-kissing, sweet-smiling, sugar-speaking man—and what had he done with Graham?
Casting a hesitant glance back at her, he added, “If you want to, that is. If you’d be more comfortable being separate, you’ll take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. Would you rather do that?”
She bit her lip. “No.”
He grinned. “Good.”
Gertrude made herself comfortable on the bed while Claire dug through their bags for toothbrushes and something to sleep in. Minutes later she and Graham stood beside each other in the tiny bathroom with a mustard yellow toilet, trying and failing not to smile at each other as they brushed their teeth.
When she turned to leave he tapped her on the ass and winked. “Be there in a minute, sweetcakes.”
She sat on that comment the entire time it took him to use the restroom and climb into bed beside her.
“Sweetcakes is a no-go.”
He straightened his arm and she went straight for the nook between his shoulder and chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “For the last time, what do you want to be called?”
“Claire.”
“Claire Bear?”
“Nope.”
“Honey?”
“If anyone gets that one it’s you, Honey Grahams.”
He groaned. “I didn’t think this through.”
“It’s better than the first one I thought of.”
“Let me guess. Graham Cracker?”
She put her finger to her nose.
“I’ll definitely take Honey Grahams over that. But...do men usually get pet names?”
“Hell if I know. I’ve never had a boyfriend who demanded I have one in the first place.”
He flicked her shoulder. “I’m not demanding. I just think it would be fun.”
“Or...annoying?”
His chest lifted and he released a heavy sigh. “Fine. We can forgo the pet names for the time being.”
“Thank you.”
He lightly traced his fingers up and down her arm, sending a shiver through her. “I bet you’re tired from the drive. We should go to sleep.”
Claire nuzzled closer and buried her nose in his neck, inhaling his delicious scent. “Mmmkay. But can we make out first? Just a little.”
He brushed his lips against her hair. “Sure. But I have to ask. Is it my fifth-place wrestling trophy or the photo montage of my good looks from first through twelfth grade turning you on?”
She shifted onto her stomach and propped herself on his chest, bringing her lips within an inch from his. “Actually, it’s the Batman figurines on the bookcase.”
One corner of his mouth tipped up. “I should have known.”
Then he tilted his chin and pulled her in for a searing kiss, giving her exactly what she wanted.
