Page 81 of Attached At Heart
I could probably also ease into things a little bit more instead of just offering up my sexual fantasies on a silver platter.
Yeah, that would probably be for the best.
To my surprise, Delaney twisted around, turning to fully face me. Her cheeks were still a delicious rosy color, but her stare was direct. “Maybe,” she said, and I momentarily stopped breathing. Delaney continued to stare at me, leaving me to wonder exactly what thatmaybemeant. “But for tonight, can I just get a yes or no on the feet?”
I chuckled, trying to ignore the way my heart raced.
“I don’t have a thing for feet,” I answered. “I just wanted to…” I flicked my eyes up to the ceiling because I wasn’t sure I could look at her while I admitted this. “I slept better last night on that couch with you next to me than I have in a long, long time. And I just wonder if…touching you will help keep my reality grounded.”
The room was quiet in the wake of my admission, and when I chanced looking back at Delaney, her eyes were glistening. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then she abruptly rolled toward me beneath the covers, scooting closer until the length of her body pressed against the length of mine. She faced the opposite way again, tucking her head just beneath mine on the pillow, her back pressed to my chest. Then she grabbed my arm from where it had been resting against my side and wrapped it around her torso.
“How’s that?” she breathed once we were settled in our new position, her voice wispy and dry.
“It’s perfect,” I said hoarsely. I buried my nose in her hair, breathing in deeply. “You’re okay with this? You’re comfortable?”
“Yeah.” She nestled closer to me, and my heart lurched in my chest. “I’m comfortable, Blake.”
Fuck me, this woman was perfect.
Perfect on her own.
Perfect for me.
And I was starting to think it was about damn time I made her aware of that.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
delaney
BLAKE WASN’T IN THE bed when I woke the next day, and I found myself feeling somewhat disappointed.
Actually, it was more than disappointment, but I couldn’t name the other feelings that had been plaguing me for the last twenty-four hours—since yesterday morning. It didn’t just have to do with the way we’d been smashed together on that couch or how it made my body heat from the inside out when he touched me. It also had a lot to do with the emotions I felt when he simplylookedat me. It waseverythingabout yesterday. It was the picture, the kiss, his arms curled protectively around me at the market. Everything.
I was trying really hard not to read too much into it. After all,Ihad initiated the kiss.Ihad reached for his hand in the market.Ihad insisted we sleep together last night. And BlakewasBlake. He’d always had a thing about watching over me and keeping me safe. He’d been my silent sentry at every party and bar I’d been to for the past ten years.
But he didn’t usually touch me.
Actually, henevertouched me.
And I was terrified at how much I was enjoying his switch-up.
Rolling over, I picked up my phone to check the time and found a text from Ophelia.
FI: Bryan showed me that picture of you and that guy on the plane. Is that your doctor friend??
I sighed, wishing Bryan hadn’t done that but knowing it was my fault for sending it to him.
Yeah, that’s him. Blake. We’re on a trip right now.
Ophelia responded immediately despite the fact that it must be like one in the morning for her.
FI: When did he get so hot???
My stomach coiled with irritation, and I responded before I really had a chance to think through what I was saying.
He’s always been hot, Fi.
FI: I mean, yeah. But now he’s, like, really hot.
