Page 86 of Past the Broken Bridges

I’m not sure if he’ll do it or if I’m crossing some sort of line. Just when I think he’s interested, he pulls back. I have a feeling the reason is a six-foot-six boy who he’s worried about, and I can respect that, even if I’m a little disappointed.

It feels like forever before he finally moves, standing and kicking off his shoes before reaching for his shirt. “I can’t sleep with this on,” he warns, pulling the hem up just enough for me to see a sliver of muscled skin beneath.

“O-Okay.”

My nervous stutter has a small grin curling his lips as he peels his shirt off in one fluid movement and drops it somewhere on the floor. I watch as he moves the comforter back before crawling into bed beside me.

I’m not sure what he’ll say or do, but nerves bubble in the pit of my stomach from how close we are. As he settles in, he extends his arm out and coaxes me to lie down. I only hesitate for a moment before lying on my side and curling into him, using his chest as a pillow. I shiver when he hooks his arm around me, hugging me into him and releasing a content sigh.

Goose bumps pebble my arms as I feel his fingers brush through my hair, and all I can do is pray that the wig stays in place. Too tired to worry about it and too comfortable to move, I let myself relax into his hold.

And for a moment, I think…this is it.

Happiness.

I remember what my mom told me once—that one day I’d find somebody who would make life worth living.

I just hope that I don’t hurt him pretending like that’s possible.

* * *

I wake up with one leg draped over a warm, hard body and the other outstretched along the mattress, a new kind of ache coiled tight in the pit of my stomach. When I start coming to, I realize the reason is Banks’s leg nestled between my thighs and pressing against the warmest part of me.

I don’t mean to move, but the unintentional fidgeting only deepens the desire spreading through my body as I press myself harder against him and get the kind of friction that ignites prickles of heat up my spine.

Glancing up at the boy I’m practically lying on, I see that he’s still sleeping soundly. One of my arms is somehow trapped underneath him so I’m unable to move away, and every time I try to, it only makes the ache between my legs that much more intense.

And then it happens.

After another failed attempt to get away, a low moan escapes my lips when his leg presses against me and puts pressure on the nerves that jump-start my heart.

Suddenly, two muddy-brown eyes are looking down at me.

“That’s a dangerous sound,” he rasps, voice thick with sleep and something else. Using my free hand, I try pushing myself up, only to accidentally graze my palm along his tented sweatpants, quickly realizing that he’s feeling the same exact way I am.

Except his groan is pained.

And the sound sparks something inside me that leaves my hand lingering, brushing the length of him and feeling him twitch.

He makes another noise, this one low in his chest—not quite a growl but close.

“Sawyer,” he warns, eyes clouded.

Experimentally, I move my hips along his thigh to create friction that releases some of the tension coiling tight in my stomach.

One of Banks’s hands moves up my back, linking with the ends of my hair and tightening around the strands as I grind against him again, moving my palm over the bulge in his pants. His jaw tightens, head rolling back on the pillow until I see the tendons in his neck.

Seeing his reaction to me makes me feel victorious, but it also makes me feel a lot more than that. And the need coursing through my body is hard to ignore the longer I move my hips against him.

“You asked me what was on my list,” I whisper, lust encasing us. When his knee moves, I gasp out, “This. This is part of it.”

“This?” he repeats, dipping down until his nose tickles my jaw. “What exactly do you want me to help you cross off, Birdie? I may need details so we can do it right.”

Oh God.My body is on fire right now, nipples pebbling from his teasing words. “I want…”

His lips press against my neck. “What do you want?”

Breath shuddering, I swallow hard. “To feel good. I want to feel good. To have fun.”

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