Page 39 of The Obvious Check

Satisfied I haven't completely mortified myself, I turn the light off and pull the blanket up to my chin like a shield against reality. Stanley shifts, settling over my feet like a personal furry heater, and I smile into the darkness. Is this what contentment feels like? This warm, safe feeling that makes my chest ache with how much I want to keep it?

Knock. Knock.

Soft and hesitant, the door slowly opens with a creak.

Cade pokes his head through the door. “Stanley,” he whisper-shouts. Stanley doesn’t move, but I can still feel his tail thumping against the bed.

The door creaks open a little wider, the faint light of the hallway seeping in. That’s when Cade takes a little step into the room. “Stanley, come on.”

“He’s okay in here,” I say, wiggling my toes to give Stanley’s belly a scratch.

“Oh.” Cade sounds startled. “I’m sorry, Savannah. Didn’t realize you were still awake.”

I can't see his facial expression in the darkness, but he sounds embarrassed, his voice pitched lower than usual. It's only when he takes another step into the room and the sliver of hallway light hits his chest in just the right way that I realize he's not wearing a shirt.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly bone-dry as I take in his muscular frame. He looks better than I imagined—and I've done plenty of imagining. Every defined muscle, every scar, every tattoo I never knew existed, all illuminated by that treacherous strip of light. If I died right now, at least I'd go with this image burned into my retinas.

“No problem,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly weak. “He can stay.”

“You sure? I can take him out. It’s not an issue.”

“I'm sure.”

“Okay, but if he bathes you in kisses and you don't like it, just call me. He can sleep with me.” His voice has that playful edge that makes my stomach do somersaults.

Bathing me in kisses. Sleeping with him. Mhm. Why am I thinking about how much I'd like to do that with Stanley's owner instead of his dog? How those lips would feel trailing down my neck, across my collarbone, lower…

Not that he'd ever think about me like that at all. Girls who live in their cars and dance at seedy clubs aren't exactly in the dating pool for future NHL stars.

“Sure thing,” I whisper, grateful for the darkness hiding the blush that's probably turned my face the color of a fire engine.

And just like that, Cade shuts the door and is gone again. No lingering. No suggestive comments. Never taking advantage. Only ever giving when everyone else in my life just takes and takes until there's nothing left. True to his word, he hasn't triedto have sex with me and he's given me my own bedroom for the night like I'm a person worthy of respect instead of a body to be used.

Something about it doesn't feel right, though. Guys like him don't rescue girls like me from chicken joint parking lots. Yet here I am, falling asleep in his clothes, wrapped in his scent, dreaming about the boy sleeping just on the other side of that hall. A hall that might as well be the Grand Canyon for all the distance it represents between our worlds.

Chapter 10

The second Savannah’s door creaks open, I glance over my shoulder, already smiling like an idiot who’s been waiting all night for this moment.

“Morning,” I say, but my voice drops an octave when it’s not her I see first. It’s my damn dog, trotting out of her room with his tail wagging like he just spent the night with his favorite human on the planet. Traitor. Bet he had a good time in there. I know I would’ve. The thought alone is enough to make me need another cold shower… my third since she walked into my apartment.

I turn back to the bacon before I do something stupid, like ask if Stanley kept her warm last night or if she’d prefer a different kind of heat.

She steps out a moment later and thank fuck I had the sense to turn the stove off. Otherwise, I’d be scraping burned bacon out of the pan, too distracted by the sight of her drowning in my clothes.

My shirt is hanging off her shoulder, exposing a collarbone I suddenly want to taste.

My shorts are too damn big and cinch at her waist, brushing the tops of her thighs in a way that’s making coherentthought impossible. Fuck. Even her hair is braided messily, giving her this just-woke-up-from-a-night-of-earth-shattering-sex vibe. Yeah, I’ve got to stop thinking like this before my shorts start tenting. I’m supposed to be a gentleman. She has enough guys trying to get into her pants. I just want to help.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

I grip the counter hard enough to leave fingerprints in the granite, forcing myself to focus on plating the food instead of the very obvious problem forming in my sweats. Gentleman or not, Savannah is one of the hottest women I've ever seen, and her walking around in my clothes is triggering every possessive instinct I didn't know I had.

“Morning, Savannah.” I try again, assuming she didn’t hear me the first time over the sound of my heart trying to punch through my ribcage.

“Morning, Cade,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep andshit.That. That right there? That raspy, just-woke-up voice? That’s something I want to hear every damn day for the rest of my life, preferably while she’s wrapped around me in sheets that smell like both of us.

She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, looking so adorably confused that I have to physically stop myself from crossing the kitchen and tasting those lips that have been haunting me for months.

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