Page 163 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
But then, there’s probably a king-size bed inside our one hotel room. We could sleep with our arms and legs fully extended and not touch each other.
I bite my lip. “I hate for the room to go to waste. It’s already paid for, right?”
He nods.
“So . . .” I look up to meet his warm gaze. “What if we both stay? Would that be weird? If we share the room?”
He rubs a hand across his face, hesitating long enough that I immediately wish I could take the suggestion back. “Justto sleep?” he finally asks.
Oh no.Did he think I wanted more? So soon? Did I give him that impression?
I quickly backpedal. “What? Yes! Of course just to sleep. Only sleeping. Very appropriate boss/employee bed sharing only. No funny business.”Oh good grief. Funny business?I sound like Grandma June.
Perry lifts an eyebrow, his expression shifting into an easy grin. “I’m not sure I need things to bethatappropriate.”
This, of course, makes me turn the color of Grandpa Jamison’s July tomatoes.
Perry hooks his hands around my hips and tugs me toward him. “I would love for us both to stay, mostly because I’m not ready for the night to end.”
I slide my hands up his chest. “So we treat it like a slumber party. Stay up all night. Play truth or dare. Share all our secrets.”
“If we’re playing party games, can we add in spin the bottle?”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t think that works if you only have two people.”
“It works if those two people really like kissing each other.”
I scoff and shake my head. “You’re terrible.”
And by terrible, I mean wonderful. Perfect. Wonderfully perfect.
“For real though,” Perry says, his tone serious. “No expectations.” He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple slide up and down. “Lila, I haven’t even kissed anyone else since Jocelyn. Not until you.” He flinches the tiniest bit. “Maybe don’t mention that to my brothers.”
I move my hands to his waist, then slip them around him. “I’m right there with you. Trevor was my first kiss, and then I married him. There’s never been anyone else.”
He nods. “So we take things slow. No pressure.”
The tension drains out of my shoulders. This man is impossibly good. “No pressure,” I repeat.
He kisses me, his lips soft and warm, before pulling away and tilting his head toward the elevators. “Come on,” he says lightly. “You better not snore.”
Our hotel room is stunning. Soft bedding. Overstuffed chairs. Huge windows that will probably provide gorgeous views of the Blue Ridge Mountains once it’s light enough to see them. Our bags are situated on the foot of the bed, brought up earlier by the bellman.
I change into my pajamas first, only stressing a little about whether my sleep leggings are thin enough to show the dimples in my thighs. But my sweatshirt is longish. It should totally cover me. Except, when I tug it down to cover my butt, the oversized neck slides down over my shoulder. Which is maybe not a big deal? I’m sleeping in a sports bra—obviously—so . . .whatever.It’s all I’ve got, so it has to work. It’s not like I’m planning on cranking up the lights and doing yoga poses. I’ve seen thosetests the yoga ladies in the legging infomercials do to prove hownotsee-through the fabric is. There will be NO downward-facing dogs happening tonight.
When Perry emerges from the bathroom wearing lounge pants and a plain white t-shirt, I almost choke on the water I’m drinking, dribbling it down my shirt.
It’s like he crawled into my brain and found theexact mental imageI conjured up that day in the barn when I was hanging out with his mom. Except, it’s so much better real and in the flesh.
Perry opens the fully stocked fridge. “Peanut or peanut butter?” he asks. “Or plain.” He looks at me over his shoulder. “Does anyone ever choose the plain M&Ms?”
“Not me,” I say with a shrug. “Peanut butter for me.”
He tosses me a bag, and I open it, trying not to focus on exactly how many pennies each M&M will cost at the overinflated minibar prices. Though, doing math isn’t a terrible distraction. It might keep me from staring at Perry. He did look amazing tonight, all dressed up. But I think I like this dressed down version of him best.
I’m sitting on the far side of the bed, leaning against the headboard, so I expect Perry to settle onto the opposite side beside me. Instead, he grabs a few pillows and situates himself so he’s propped up, facing me, his head at the foot of the bed and his legs stretched out toward me. Oh, this is amuch betterview.
“Okay, spill it,” he says, after popping a few M&Ms into his mouth. “When did you start singing like that?”
