After folding down the duvet, I returned to the hallway up here and adjusted the thermostat. It was a little too warm for my liking, and there was no way I’d lose any clothes. Sweats and a beater would have to do. Presumably all night, because I couldn’t foresee Pipsqueak going home.

And…I didn’t fucking want her to.

To say I was conflicted would be the understatement of the century.

Pipsqueak was wearing an oversized USMC tee—Ryan’s, without a doubt—and she kept it on. The same couldn’t be said for her shorts. She pushed them down unceremoniously and got into bed with the remote control, her eyes glued to the DVD menu’s selection. She mumbled no thanks to director’s commentary and pushed play on the regular version.

If she was nervous or uncomfortable at this point, it didn’t show whatsoever.

Maybe she wasn’t planning anything, then. Maybe this was the extent of it. She was a horrible actress, so I would’ve liked to believe I’d detect any further plans. I should be relieved, in other words. I should be very relieved.

I joined her in bed and propped two pillows behind my back, and I stayed over the sheet since she was underneath it. Call it self-preservation, but I knew where I’d end up once I fell asleep. When I was little, I’d always slept wrapped around Finn. When I’d been married, I’d woken up on Angie’s side of the bed more often than not, even after I’d started hating her guts.

After Grace was born, I’d been terrified to sleep next to her, for fear I’d roll over on her. Then I’d fallen asleep by accident once, only to discover my inner dad radar had everything covered. If Grace moved an inch, I noticed.

I’d almost crossed that literal line up in Whistler, with half my body over on the side Pipsqueak had used. I was fairly sure Grace’s presence had saved me from going further.

As I let out a breath, I realized how tense I was. Overthinking and overanalyzing had turned me rigid, and I was a little surprised Pipsqueak hadn’t pointed it out. She was weirdly good at picking up on changes in the atmosphere.

She took a sip of her coffee-flavored sugar and remained seated with her legs crisscrossed. I made a conscious effort to unclench and focus on the movie, and it helped when she chuckled and said, “Darius should watch this. It’s his dystopian fantasies come true.”

My mouth twitched. I wouldn’t call it a fantasy of Darius’s, but he did prepare for disasters because he believed they were all likely scenarios. He had dreams of building a house in the middle of the forest and turning it into a homestead where he didn’t need to rely on anyone but himself.

“He’s the one who told me to get it,” I admitted.

Pipsqueak snickered and leaned back against the pillows. Then she did something stupid. She kicked off the sheet and pulled up her knees a bit, flashing way too much of her toned legs. I remembered vividly how soft and smooth they felt.

I was screwed, wasn’t I? I’d never been able to tell her no because, in my eyes, she’d always been my exception. Even back when I’d been a raging dipshit to everyone around me, I hadn’t mustered anything more than fleeting annoyance when she showed up unannounced.

I drew a deep breath and gave the movie another chance. I’d started watching it once before, but I’d fallen asleep halfway into it.

I lasted about five minutes. Then my gaze was back to her legs. I pictured my hand sliding up her calf, over her knee, parting them a bit more—

“May I use you as a pillow, Mister?”

Fuck me twice.

“Sure.” I cleared my throat, my heart hammering, and I gave myself a mental kick in the balls for so many reasons. She flashed me a sweet little grin as I extended my arm, and it completely changed the direction of my previous thoughts. Because the second she aligned herself with my body and rested her head on my chest, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Emotions surged forward within me, strong enough that my eyes actually stung. I hadn’t had another person in my arms since long before my divorce.

I hadn’t shown anyone any genuine affection in years. Hugging Pipsqueak and Willow was one thing. Being Grace’s personal teddy bear was one thing too. This, sharing my bed, holding a woman, was a whole other. It was foreign. Even more so because Pipsqueak was the first person whose spot in my heart had always been untainted.

I had no words to describe how good she felt in my arms. Rather than leaving my arm on her pillow, I wrapped it around her, tucking her against my side. I stopped pretending to give a flying fuck about the movie, and I closed my eyes. I concentrated on her—only her. It felt so goddamn right. Letting my hand roam her back in casual little strokes, I indulged when I knew I was supposed to do the opposite. I didn’t care.

Tags: Cara Dee Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net