Page 40 of Friends Don't Kiss

He shakes his head. “I sleep naked,” he answers, then quickly adds, “but for you I’ll make an exception.”

Good to know.

My feet are stuck on the floor right now, so much so that I’m unable to move as he brushes past me on his way to the bathroom. Embarrassed by the way I look, I scamper to the far side of the bed, get under the covers, turn my night light off, and pretend to be asleep when the bed dips slightly under his weight and he clicks his light off.

I can feel him awake next to me but don’t dare move. I try to force my breath to a slower rhythm. Eventually, he clears his throat, the bed moves, and his breathing slows. After a few minutes, his leg jerks, then he turns. I risking a glance over the wall of pillows. His back faces me, rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm. Asleep.

Settling on my back, I stare at the ceiling. Colton’s manly presence isn’t helping me relax. I should’ve taken care of business in the bathroom. Now I’m on the edge. Forcing myself to close my eyes, I relive the evening’s events in flashes of light, stills of emotions and situations. Colton’s strong profile at the table, talking about me like I’m really his soon-to-be fiancée. Colton at the bar, telling my sister something that makes her pale. Colton on the dance floor, exuding sexual tension and directing it at me.

Despite my protestations, he made me feel safe. Beautiful.Wanted.

None of this felt fake. And yet—it was, wasn’t it?

Lying silently next to him, the sound of his deep breathing slowing my heartbeat, I take a calming inhale, drinking in his scent—coconut shampoo and the sweet musk of his skin. Then I silently creep my head up the pillows again, and with my eyes now adjusted to darkness, let my gaze roam his shape.

How would it feel to run my hands in his hair, to caress his strong shoulders, to draw the outline of his tattoo? How would it feel to be tucked inside his embrace, wrapped in his strong arms, sleeping the night off knowing that come morning, he’d have my back again?

His black hair is splayed on the pillow, and I don’t even know if it’s soft or coarse. Does he always sleep on his side or is it only to avoid me? And that line about sleeping naked—was it just to rile me up?

I could reach out to him. Extend my fingers and touch his ridiculously defined bicep and tell him I’m fucking scared. That I want him, but I’m scared to lose him.

But what good would that do? He’d say the right thing in the moment, and I’d live to regret what would happen next. Present me might be itching to take the risk, but future me will be thankful in the end that I took the reasonable course of action.

“Something bothering you, grasshopper?”

Stifling a yelp, I duck back to my side of the bed. “Thought I heard some noise,” I lie, my voice muffled by the pillow I’m smothering myself with in an effort to kill my embarrassment.

“No other noise than the sound of your overthinking,” Colton says in a sexy-as-hell sleepy voice. The bed moves under his shifting weight. Keeping my head under my pillow, I turn my back to him and hug the edge of the bed, one foot sticking out the covers.

I wake up startled by sharp rasps on the door, the kind made by a metallic object. “What the fuck time is it?” Colton asks.

Rubbing my eyes, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and draw the curtains open, ignoring whatever’s going on on the other side of the door. It’s a gray morning, the sun losing its battle against the clouds, bathing everything in a milky light with no sparkle.

“Kiara!” Maya’s voice hisses outside the door. Is that really her? What does she want now?

“Want me to get it?” Colton asks, his voice thick with sleep.

I glance at him. He’s on his back on the bed, one arm folded under his head, the other pulling the sheets over his midsection. His gaze is on all of me at once, it seems. With his torso splayed out, his morning stubble, his hair disheveled as if I did manage to play with it, he looks like a cover model for one of the books Millie liberally dispenses at Easy Monday to keep us coming back.

As my glance turns into more, the gleam in his eye sharpens, the corners of his mouth turn up, his head settles into the pillow, turned toward me to get comfortable.

He’s tempting and he knows it.

“I got it,” I answer.

I nervously run a hand through my hair then down the front of my pajamas, like that’s going to help make me look prim and proper to my sister.

I look like shit; what else is new? Taking a deep breath, I crack the door open.

She lets an airy laugh out when she sees me. I don’t need her to tell me what she finds so funny, but she spells it out for me anyway (because why would she pass on that kind of fun?). “No wonder you can’t keep a guy.” She giggles.

I open the door a tad more so I can lean on it for emotional support without slamming it in her face. “What do you want?”

“Just checking—oh, hey,” she says, her gaze moving somewhere behind my shoulder.

Colton fits himself right behind me, clasping his naked arm around my midsection. With a deep, contented sigh, he reaches under my pajama top and palms my belly. Then he leans into me, kissing the top of my head, trailing down the side of my face, nudging me to give him access to my neck.

Which I do. I tilt my head so he can full-on kiss, nibble, and lick.

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