Page 87 of Broken Pact

As we finish our food, I glance out the window at the sun dipping below the top of the trees across the lake. I lean back, a playful smirk on my lips. “You know, it’s getting pretty dark. Visibility is probably terrible for motorcycles. We should probably wait until morning to bring me back to my car.”

Jasper raises an eyebrow, catching the playful glint in my eye. “Is that so?”

I nod, trying to keep a straight face. “Yep. Safety first and all.”

He chuckles, setting his empty container aside. “Guess you’ll have to stay the night, then.”

“Guess so,” I agree, unable to hide my smile.

I’m not ready to stop pretending yet. I want one more night with Jasper Devereaux before we have to go back to our regularly scheduled lives and all its problems.

42

CORALINE

The warm steam from the shower curls around me, clinging to my skin like a second layer. I towel off quickly, slipping on a clean oversized tee Jasper laid out for me. The scent of his soap—something woodsy and clean—lingers on me, a subtle reminder that I’m making myself quite at home inside his house. My heart thumps a little faster at the thought.

I pad softly into the bedroom, where Jasper is dragging a towel over his damp hair, black boxer briefs slung dangerously low around his hips. The soft light from the bedside lamp casts a golden hue, highlighting the planes of his chest and the small droplets of water trailing down his skin. He catches my gaze and offers a half-smile, one corner of his mouth lifting in that way that makes my stomach flutter.

“Sorry, I thought I’d be out of here before you got out of the shower.” But he doesn’t look all that sorry.

He drops the towel in the hamper in the closet and reaches for a pair of sweatpants, his eyes flicking to the bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch again,” he says, almost as if he’s reminding himself.

“I feel bad about kicking you out of your bed.” I fiddle with the hem of the borrowed shirt. “The couch probably isn’t very comfortable.”

The thought of him sleeping on the couch tonight seems silly. But it’s not just about comfort. It’s about the strange, thrilling sense of closeness that’s been building between us all day. For the last couple of weeks really.

The night air hums with possibilities, and I can’t deny the pull I feel toward him. I don’t want to.

“You literally slept the entire afternoon on it,” he deadpans.

I nod a few times. “But that was a disco nap gone wrong. It’s nothing compared to sleeping a whole night.”

He chuckles, leaning his shoulder against the wall nearest him. “Do I even want to know what a disco nap is?”

My brows furrow together. “It’s a nap you take before going to the disco. Nana Jo said it my entire life, eventually I started saying it too.”

His lips curve into a soft smile. His too handsome face lures me in, sidetracks me with flashes of that same face between my legs earlier today.

“Stop distracting me with your face.” I wave my hand in the air like I can dispel the distraction. My gaze narrows as I look at him, suspicion nipping at the back of my neck. “I’m telling you to sleep in the same bed as me. Why aren’t you jumping at the opportunity?”

He pauses, his movements stilled as he studies me. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise maybe, or a shadow of caution. I swallow, a nervous flutter in my stomach. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“You don’t have to do this, Coraline.” His voice is soft, serious and low. “This thing between us,” he says, flicking his fingers from me to him. “There’s no pressure, baby. On anything. Ever. We go at your pace and you can put on the brakes whenever you need to.”

I swallow, emotion clogging my throat. “Alright.”

“So don’t do something because you think I expect it.”

I roll my eyes, but it lacks the usual sass. “When do I ever do something because I think you want me too?”

The ghost of a smile curls up the side of his mouth. “Alright, then tell me what you want. Use your words, baby.”

I bite my lip, searching for the right words. “I want you in bed with me.”

There. I’ve said it. My cheeks burn with the confession, but I don’t look away. I feel vulnerable admitting it, even though it’s such a minor thing. I’m not even saying anything explicit, but somehow sharing a bed with someone feels more personal than fucking.

I mean, I hope this turns into fucking. But I kind of like the idea of this too.

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