Page 203 of Beautiful Collide

“Yes,” she says, crossing her arms. “If you hadn’t dragged me into this whole farm hideout plan, I’d be at home in my perfectly comfortable apartment, in my perfectly comfortable bed.”

“Where the paparazzi would still be camped outside your door,” I point out.

She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Okay, fine. You’re right. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Fair enough,” I say, standing and walking over to her. “But hey, look on the bright side.”

“What bright side?” She narrows her eyes.

“At least my mom likes you.” I grin. “That’s more than I can say for most people I’ve dated.”

Her cheeks flush, and she looks away, pretending to straighten a bottle of lotion. “One, it sounds like you’ve never brought a woman home before . . . and two, that’s because your mom doesn’t know the full story.”

“Maybe.” I lean against my desk. “Or maybe she just has good taste.”

She glances at me, and something unspoken passes between us.

“Well,” she says, breaking the silence. “We should probably get ready for bed.”

“Yeah. Good idea.”

“Are you sure this will work?” she asks.

“Nope,” I say, grinning.

She groans, climbing onto the bed and lying down on one side. “If you kick me in your sleep, I’m moving to the couch downstairs.”

“Noted,” I say, lying down beside her.

The bed creaks under our weight, and neither of us speaks. The room is quiet except for our breathing. “Thanks for coming here.” I turn my head to look at her.

“Thanks for bringing me.” She smiles at me, and my heart thumps in my chest. “Good night, Hudson.”

“Good night, Hex.”

72

Molly

He’s too close.Every move he makes, I feel. The steady inhale of his breath, the way his chest rises and falls, the warmth radiating off his body.

I’m supposed to be sleeping, but I can’t.Not like this.

This is torture.

His mom is a diabolical genius because, in this tiny bed, all I can think about is how much I want him.

The soft fragrance of his cologne filters through my nose like an aphrodisiac. It beckons me to cross the tiny space that separates us and do what I want.

And all I want to do is kiss him.

“I can hear you thinking over there,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

“No, you can’t,” I shoot back, even though my pulse betrays me. It’s hammering in my ears so loud he might actually be able to hear it.

“Sure, I can. It’s so loud, I wondered if I had a superpower and can read your mind.”

“You’re not funny.”

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