Page 72 of Strike Zone

“There’s only one bed,” I say. He nods and takes a step closer to me.

“It’s kind of small.” I wave a hand toward the bed. It’s the same size as his bed at school but I feel the need to point out this fact because it's going to feel like a twin mattress with him laying beside me. He nods and takes another step.

The thing is, I’m not convinced he wants to share a room with me. I know what he said this morning, but I can’t help but wonder if that’s the truth. I close my eyes for a moment. I feel him all over me, even without him touching me.

“What’s the real problem?” he asks.

“You haven’t kissed me again. I’m worried you regret it. I don’t want to share a room with you if it’s only going to add to the list of things you wish you never did.”

He crowds me further until my back is pressed against the door. “I haven’t kissed you again because if I do, I won’t want to stop until I have you naked and my dick buried inside of you.” He rubs his nose against mine teasing me. “Trust me, birdie, I’m just getting started with you. I’m going to ruin you for that future husband of yours.”

He backs off and starts nonchalantly unpacking his bag. I collect myself as I watch him take out neatly folded T-shirts and place them in the dresser.

“You better keep your hands to yourself while we’re in your mama’s house.”

“I can’t promise that. She’s the one who put us in a room together anyway.” He shrugs.

“You said it was a small house.”

“It is,” he says. “But she could have made Lennon sleep on an air mattress in Ford’s room or have you room with Lennon.”

“But she didn’t.” I open my suitcase and unpack a few things.

He watches with a smile as I remove all the jeans and sun dresses I brought with me. Once we’re all unpacked, he says, “Come on, I think I smell someone making lunch. Let’s go see who’s made it back home.”

I stop at the door looking back over our space for the next week. “Does your mama know something I don’t?”

“She knows the same things we do, birdie,” he answers before kissing the top of my head and ushering me out the door.

18

WYATT

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” Ford asks, taking a seat in the rocking chair beside me.

“Getting some fresh air.” After dinner, my dad pulled out the Scrabble board which is apparently the equivalent to catnip for Wren. I left her side a half hour ago to come out here and think.

From the kiss last night to seeing her sleeping in my bed, my head is spinning. I want her, but she’s not mine to keep, and that’s worrisome. I’m not one to get caught up with feelings, but it hasn’t stopped them from showing up anyway.

“You’re thinking pretty hard over there.”

“Wren’s engaged,” I blurt out. “I keep thinking that no matter what happens between us, she’s getting married to another man.”

“Shit. This guy doesn’t care if she’s spending a week with you?”

I shake my head. “Technically they aren’t even getting engaged until this summer. It’s some kind of archaic arranged marriage bullshit.” I don’t have all the details. I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. I figured she would tell me if she wanted to.

“Tell me how you really feel.” He snickers but quickly stops when he sees me glaring at him. “What do you want to happen?”

Good question. I want to have sex with her. The need to be inside her is almost paralyzing. I want to feel her come around my cock and see her face when she falls apart because of me. I bet she’s fucking beautiful.

Then I think of what my life would be without her snarky comments, her sticky notes and lists, her complaining about my laundry, or her getting after me about the way I eat. There’s a void. I feel hollow without her.

“I want her,” I admit. In every way possible.

“Can you fuck her and then let her go to live a life with another man?” Ford asks.

Can I? It’s what I’ve done with every relationship in the past. Is she that different?

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