Page 129 of Boyfriend of the Hour
The apartment wasn’t an oven or anything, but Nathan had a pretty heavy-duty duvet. I already knew a T-shirt and underpants were going to be plenty for me.
Nathan looked down at the blue and red plaid flannel set he had changed into, then back at me with a frown. “I thought you’d appreciate some extra clothes. My mother gave me these a few years ago. I’ve never worn them.”
I snorted as I looked back at my phone. “Please. Don’t incinerate on my behalf. What do you usually wear to sleep?”
“Typically just my underwear. I keep the apartment at sixty-four degrees at night. Studies show the body maintains a more natural circadian rhythm when it sleeps at a temperature below sixty-five.”
I’m not going to lie. My nipples popped right out when he started nerding out like that. He really had no idea the effect it had on me.
So I continued to stare at my phone, pretending to examine a video about cat zoomies so my body could calm the heck down. No need to be flashing my headlights at the poor man right before bed.
He was obviously uncomfortable enough with this arrangement.
“Well, don’t melt,” I told him. “Even if you sleep naked, it’s just a body. We’re already not getting enough sleep as it is.”
He seemed to think about that for a long minute. Then, while I was specificallynotlooking, I couldn’t exactly miss it when he unbuttoned the shirt and removed it. Or when he took off the pants, revealing tight black boxer briefs that left very little of what was obviously a considerable package to the imagination. Or flashed a stupidly ripped set of muscles and a generous patch of curls over his chest before he slid under the covers.
Nathan took off his glasses, set them on his nightstand, and closed his eyes all over again.
“Everything okay?” I asked, looking up from my phone as if I hadn’t just been ogling him via my peripheral vision.
“Yes, I—” he cleared his throat. “This just isn’t what I expected to be doing tonight.”
“Babe, I don’t think either of us was expecting a sleepover, but here we are.” I put my phone on the bedside table and pulled my knees up to my chest. “I’m on the right side, aren’t I?”
He coughed. “Uh, yes. You’re on the right side.”
“Then…are you going to open your eyes? You’re acting kind of weird.”
His eyes remained closed. “That’s becausethisis kind of weird.”
Well. Couldn’t argue there.
“It’s notthatweird.” Okay, maybe I could argue a little.
“It is. You’re my roommate. And my pseudo-girlfriend, who should be sleeping in a different room. This was only going to work if we had clear boundaries. Instead, you’re in my bed, and you don’t have pants on, and we’ve kissed multiple times.”
By the time Nathan was done, he was scrubbing his hand over his face so roughly, his cheeks were red.
I honestly didn’t know what to make of it. Okay, sure, things were a little muddled. But he didn’t seem to hate kissing me. And he also seemed to like my legs, or at least looked at them like he did. We’d spent half the evening curled up together on the couch. Why did a bed have to be so different?
Was I that disgusting? Or maybe just embarrassing?
“Those things…are all true,” I started slowly. “But they only have to be weird if we let them be.”
One brown eye opened. “Explain.”
“Well, those kisses were just for show, weren’t they?”
No response. So, I went on.
“And, come on, haven’t you ever had a sleepover before?”
The expression in that eye let me know he wasn’t a monk.
“I don’t mean likethat,” I said. “I mean, like…I don’t know. Didn’t you ever spend the night at a friend’s house when you were a kid? Or have to share a bed with one of your brothers or something on a road trip?”
The thought made me giggle. The idea of Nathan and Carrick, two linebacker-sized men, wedged into a double bed at a roadside motel, was too funny not to. Lord, I bet they were enormous as teenagers. All arms and legs and glasses and growls.
