Crazy Hot Love (Dirty Dicks 2)
No one has ever said something like that to me with so much conviction and so much heart. In this moment, she’s not a victim holding on to her hero; she’s a friend holding on to a friend, a woman holding on to a man, and I believe her. No one has ever needed me like this, and it’s left me more than a little speechless.
I lean back on the couch and bring Claire with me. She burrows her face against my chest as I reach over and pull the afghan across our bodies.
Her tears soak through my shirt, but I don’t care. She can cry as much as she wants for as long as she needs, and I’ll stay right here, acting as her human Kleenex. Threading my fingers through her hair, I stroke the strands, letting them fall before repeating the process. Eventually, Claire’s cries soften, her breathing evens out, and when I look down and see her asleep on top of me, my heart flips over inside my chest.
I don’t know how long I sit and watch her sleep, but eventually I must pass out because when I wake up, the darkness has given way to the light of a new day. Bright sunlight filters through the blinds, and even though my back is killing me, I’ve never been more comfortable, and it’s because of the precious woman lying on me.
Sometime during the night, Claire must’ve moved. Her body is now cradled between my legs, her head resting in the crook of my neck, and the only thing that hasn’t changed are her arms. They’re still wrapped tight around my body as though she was afraid if she let go I’d disappear.
Not a chance in hell.
The afghan fell off the couch, but we didn’t need it because our bodies pressed together created more than enough heat to keep us warm. Claire rustles around in her sleep and accidentally knees me in the balls.
“Ooomph.” I jerk on instinct, and Claire’s head pops up.
She blinks heavily against the bright light. Her red hair is plastered to the side of her head, and I’ve never seen her look so beautiful.
“What’s wrong?” She rustles around, adjusting herself against me, and my dick decides to sit up and take notice.
“You kneed me in the junk. Again.”
“Oh my God,” she says, trying not to laugh.
She tries to lift herself up to look down, but I hold her in place—mostly because I’m not ready to let her go.
“That’s twice now,” I tell her. “I’m starting to think you have it out for me.”
“I swear I don’t.”
“I could let you rub it and make it all better.” It’s probably wrong of me to flirt with her after everything she’s been through, but I can’t help myself. I don’t want to help myself. Not anymore.
“Oh, I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you?”
“A little too much, probably.”
She laughs and buries her face in my chest, and I decide it’s the best sound in the entire world. If I could, I would bottle it up and save it.
Eventually, she looks up. A shy smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. “Good morning.”
“It’s always a good morning when I wake up with a beautiful woman sprawled out across my chest.”
Her smile widens, and I lied. This, right here. The way she looked moments ago doesn’t hold a candle to how perfect she looks right now. Her eyes look lighter than they did last night, as if clouds have finally parted to make way for the sun.
“You shouldn’t say those things to me.”
“Why not?” I say, brushing the hair from the side of her cheek. “It’s the truth.”
“Because it makes me happy.”
I draw in a slow breath, choosing my words wisely, because this might be the loophole—the brief moment in time when I have the opportunity to get us back on the right track. And by the right track I mean on the track of getting together.
If there’s one thing I learned by staying with Claire last night, it’s that waking up with her in my arms is the best damn feeling in the entire world, and I’m ready for it.
I’m ready to have this day in and day out.
And I want it with Claire.