Page 92 of Aria

She needed me; she shouldn’t have to sleep alone tonight, and Devon wasn’t here.

Screw logic.

I approached the other side of the bed, climbing in and situating myself underneath the covers. The bed squeaked beneath my weight as I moved toward the center of it, just close enough that I could feel her body heat emanating into me. A few rogue strands of her hair tickled my forehead as they fanned out across her pillow.

Chelsie rolled over to face me.

Don’t do that.Just go to sleep. Don’t do that.

We were close, with only a few inches between us. I felt her knees graze my own as she stared at me through the dark. “You should get some sleep,” I prompted, mentally erasing the catch in my voice. It was stark against the shroud of silence.

“Will you hold me?”

Damnit.

Another terrible idea I was absolutely going to do. “Of course.”

Chelsie scooted her body over to me, closing the gap between us as she nuzzled her face beneath my chin. I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling the whiskey on her breath and the lavender in her hair. She was warm, soft, intoxicating, and…

Mine.

It was a foolish thing to think. Only a goddamn fool would have fallen for the one woman who was off-limits.

But right now, in this room… I did have her.

She was inmybed; inmyarms.

She was mine.

My fingers weaved through her hair, stroking gently, and I could have sworn she let out the tiniest moan. The sound sent shockwaves through my body, and my cock twitched in reply. Our legs were beginning to intertwine on their own accord as Chelsie inched her way closer, as if there was anywhere else to go. She was already pressed fully against me, impossibly and dangerously close.

She peered up at me, tipping her head until our eyes locked, our noses nearly touching.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Her breath caressed my lips like a forbidden kiss. “For what?”

“For everything. For making me feel.”

I swallowed, my body humming. “For making you feel what?”

“Everything,” she echoed.

Everything.

I didn’t know what to make of that answer. The collection of meanings I could come up with were endless and could easily drive me mad, so I chose not to read into it. She was tipsy, rattled. Traumatized.

She was also cocooned against my torso, warming me up from the inside out. Chelsie was shameless in her proximity—almost every inch of her body blanketed me in some way, from her forehead, to her toes, to her wildly beating heart. I felt it rumble through my veins like a ticking time bomb, reminding me that this moment was fleeting. She wasnotmine.

She never would be.

“You’re drunk,” I murmured. It needed to be said, and maybe I needed the reminder more than she did.

Chelsie chewed her bottom lip, her eyes dancing across my face. “Is that all this is? A drunk moment?”

Don’t go there, Combs. Not now. Not when you’re pressed against me like the perfect lover.

My tongue disobeyed, begging for her to indulge me. “You tell me.”

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