Page 73 of Attached At Heart
“It’s morning,” I whispered.
“So?”
“Blake.” His name came out like a plea.
“Fine,” he grunted in my ear.
Giving in, his hold on me loosened. His fingers drifted over my bare back, retreating so I could presumably escape. But then he stilled. His breathing shifted. Quickened. Blake’s chest rose, grazing mine. I could identify the exact moment when he felt my hardening nipples—when he realized I wasn’t wearing anything.
“Blake,” I repeated weakly.
“You’re…you’re not—” he stuttered and then broke off. “Delaney, you’re not?—”
He couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“The towel,” I tried to explain. “I fell asleep in the towel. And then I ran out here in the towel. And then I think the towel must have…fallen off.”
“Fallen off?” Blake repeated like he couldn’t conjure any words beyond the ones that were already said.
“Fallen off.”
This should be the moment that I jumped off the couch. Ran away. Disentangled myself from Blake’s body so that we didn’t have to do whatever dance we were doing right now. It felt like we were in a supported pirouette, where I was spinning round and round in circles, and Blake was just…holding me. Unmoving.
“I suppose…” He stopped to clear his throat. “I suppose this is why you were trying to leave, huh?”
I nodded, remaining still.
I didn’t move, but I suddenly felt…closer to him.
Did Blake’s arm tighten on me again?
That didn’t make sense.
Nor did how I unlaced my hands from behind his neck, sliding them down his chest. I mean, it would have made sense if I’d done it to push him away. But my hands stayed there, fingers drumming on his collarbone, feeling the way his breathing changed.
“Hey, Lane?”
His breath tickled the curve of my ear, and I wasn’t sure why, but it made my head spin. I felt like I was stuck in a never-ending turn sequence.
“Yeah?”
“Do you still get the money if I die after you’ve married me?”
My lungs deflated. Punctured. Were no longer operational.
“Why the hell would you ask me something like that?” I choked.
He groaned. “Because I swear to God, you’re trying to kill me on this trip.”
“This trip wasyouridea, Blake.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know it would be like this.”
My breath hitched. “Like what?” I asked, even though I knew what he meant. Something had shifted in the last forty-eight hours. Something about the way we were together. And even though we kept trying to avoid it, I wasn’t sure it would be possible.
“Like…” His attempt at an answer descended into a groan that sounded an awful lot like mortification. And I understood a second later, gasping when I felt him.Reallyfelt him. Hard. Against me.
“Just a man,” he muttered as a reminder. “I’m sorry, but I’m just a man, Delaney.”
