Page 85 of Risk

He makes a move toward the chair, and I stop him by saying, “Sit on the bed. There’s plenty of space, and it’s much more comfortable than the chair.”

He hesitates again. I know that hesitation is because of me. But where is the decisive, confidentwe’re inevitableguy from eleven days ago?

I want him back.

I know I sent him away, okay? But I want him back now.

I think.

Kaden glances down at his jeans. “Let me just change into something more comfortable, and I’ll be back.”

You can come back naked if you want? Or don’t leave at all and just strip here, so I get the pleasure of watching.

Thank Christ my brain-to-mouth filter seems to be working.

I pause the movie so he doesn’t miss any more than he already has, and then I mess around on my cell while I wait for him to come back.

“You didn’t have to pause it for me.”

My eyes flick up from my cell, and I have to stop myself from drooling. He’s not wearing anything that I haven’t seen him in before, but honestly, those fucking gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips are like a fucking aphrodisiac to me. His tank top is not one I’ve seen him in before. It’s one of those workout tanks. It’s black, and it has that soft, over-worn look to it, with the name of what I’m guessing is a gym on the front. Kind of reminds me of those Gold’s Gym tanks.

He pads over to the bed and climbs on to sit beside me, but leaves a respectable amount of space between us. His back is against the headboard, whereas I’m lying down, on my pillow.

My view is currently of the side of his hip and crotch. Not a bad view overall, but I’d prefer to see his face.

I pick up the remote and restart the movie, tilting my face back to the TV.

“When did you get this?” He taps my pillow with his fingers.

“Last week. You were at the gym when it was delivered.”

“Did they need a crane to get it up here?”

“Funny.” I roll my eyes at him. I shift a little and hug my pillow tighter. “I truly and madly love this pillow. I’m never giving it up. Ever. I’m going to sleep with it forever. If I could marry this pillow, I would.”

“That so?” He shifts down the bed, turning to his side, putting us face-to-face.

The grin on his face makes his eyes glisten in the low light of my room. He’s so fucking gorgeous. I don’t think I’ll ever look at this man and not have that thought cross my mind.

“Yep. Actually, you can marry inanimate objects now. I saw this story about this woman who married a tree and another one who wanted to marry a swimming pool, but I’m not sure if that actually happened. Oh, and there was this dude who was in a relationship with his car, but he didn’t marry it, I don’t think. Oh, and there was this woman who married a pirate ghost, but I don’t know if a ghost counts as an inanimate object.”

Laughter bursts from him. “Where the fuck were you watching this shit?”

“YouTube.”

“Of course.”

“Hey, just because it was on YouTube doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

“If you say so, Beautiful. So, you’re gonna marry this pillow then?”

Beautiful.He’s not called me that since our night together.

“Yep.”

“So, does that mean it’ll be our babies’ stepfather, or is the pillow female? Their stepmom? Or does it not have a gender—you know with it being a pillow—and I should just go with step-pillow?”

“Shut up, doofus.”

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