“That’s the one.” He presses some buttons and the movie begins to play.
“I cannot believe you own Snow Dogs let alone want to watch it.” I shake my head. “You keep on surprising me.”
He smiles. “As do you, Princess.”
He wiggles around and gets comfortable and the movie starts.
My eyes grow heavy and he sighs, lifting his arm in invitation. I look at him reluctantly. I know I shouldn’t, but …
I move and snuggle against his side, resting my head on his chest.
Since I can’t see, I can’t be sure, but I’d swear he kisses the top of my head.
This … This feels good.
Normal even.
And I have to remind myself over and over again that it’s not real.
We’re not a couple, and I don’t even know if we’re friends.
Besides, he’s using me to get what he wants, just as I’m using him to show me how to be bad.
It’s not real.
It’s not real.
It’s not real.
Then why does it feel so damn right?
I blink my eyes open, taking in my unfamiliar surroundings. I’m confused at first but then I remember coming to Bennett’s apartment after he confronted his coach.
I’m in the guestroom, but the last thing I remember is falling asleep on the couch so Bennett must have carried me to bed.
I sit up fully, the sheets pooling at my waist. The beginning rays of sunlight break through the blinds, and I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It shows that it’s a little after seven in the morning.
I don’t know what time Bennett will want to head back, so I decide to get up and be ready. I head across the hall to shower and find that there aren’t any towels or soap.
I sigh and tentatively tip-toe down the hall to his room. I push the door open and find that his bed is rumpled from sleep, but empty.
He probably went to the gym or something. I figure there’s no harm in raiding his bathroom for what I need, but as soon as I reach the half open door, I realize that was a mistake.
He’s just turned the shower on and he opens the glass door, stepping inside.
He doesn’t know I’m there.
I should turn.
Run.
Get my ass out of there.
But I can’t.
I’m frozen, held prisoner by my own body.
It’s wrong, but I stare at him. At the smooth planes of his back and the firmness of his ass.