Page 115 of Make Me Dream of You

“Noah?”

“I’m good,” I say, wondering if I should make a show of waiting before I follow her into the bathroom or just go now. I’ve already forgotten what she tastes like, and that won’t do.

Wood comes to the table with way too many fluffy eggs on his plate. “You can just ask her to stay, bro.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, if you were worried about my reaction or wanted my input before asking her, I’m cool with it. I think you should.”

“I wasn’t thinking about asking her to stay.”

“I saw the way your face changed as soon as she and Bex were talking about apartment hunting. It’s like you’re under your own little storm cloud. Her being here makes you happy. Just ask.”

“I can’t do that. It’s too soon.”

“Too soon according to who? Society? Fuck that and what anyone else thinks.”

I chuckle. “I didn’t realize you were such a romantic.”

He scoffs. “Did you forget that I’m a product of love at first sight? At least, it was for my dad. He knew the moment he met my mom she was it for him. And three months later they were married.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And six months later, you were born.”

“That had nothing to do with it. Twenty-seven years later and they’re still together. My point is, it’s your life and I haven’t seen you truly happy like this since…since before.”

The knot that is always somewhere in my gut twists and aches. “I’ll think about it,” I say.

Wood smiles.

“There is something, actually, that I want to do for her I was hoping you could help me with.”

Wood leans forward, resting his chin in his hands. “I’m listening.”

The best part of the day is waking up with her in my arms, tangled in my sheets, skin on skin, soft breaths in the dewy morning light. Just the fact that I wake up—that I slept—she’s my angel.

Every day gets better. She is sunshine. She paints and does little dances in the kitchen. She sits with me at work, watching, learning, an eager student.

And with every kiss, every touch, every time I look into her eyes as I slide inside her, with every gasp I draw from her lips, with every thrust, she is more mine and I am more hers.

Did I say the morning was my favorite part of the day? I lied. It’s the night. It’s the way she looks at me like I’m her last meal. It’s the way she drops to her knees for me and how she always brings me to mine. It’s the way our bodies move together and after we’ve given and taken each other’s pleasure, she holds me.

She holds me and the overwhelming urge to tell her I love her slams into my chest. My throat is tight as I swallow the words. It’s too soon. Sometimes we lie there in silence and sometimes we talk, and I wrap myself around her and caress her skin until I sleep.

I can’t get enough of her. The everyday, mundane things—all magical when they’re with her. Like lying here in bed, listening to the sound of the rain outside while she brushes her teeth. I make out the shape of her through the crack in the door in her little sleep tank and shorts. She doesn’t wear a bra or panties under them, and I’m already hard thinking about it.

She turns the lights off and comes out, a silver-blue light on her skin. The rain beats hard against the window.

Mine.

That’s all I can think as she walks toward me. Toward our bed.

She’s mine.

Livvy crawls over to me and I reach for her, greedily, wrapping my arms around her as she lies on my chest. I kiss the top of her head, breathing her in.

Wind whips outside.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “About Anthony quitting. It’s my fault.”

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