“I like to think I’m an open book.” The hairs on his forearm tickled my palm until I reached the smooth expanse of his biceps.

“Unless you don’t want to share something.”

“Like I said, smarter than you look.”

Lear seemed tired. The lines of his face were still as handsome and chiseled as ever, but he looked like he could sleep for days. I turned from his face and glanced at the ceiling. I didn’t need to concern myself with Lear’s sleep schedule. Worrying about that led to caring too much and the inevitable moment when I realized I cared more than he did. “What about me are you trying to read? I know you know it was good for me.”

“Twice, I believe.” His palm flattened against my belly, and he stroked up to my ribs and then back to my hips in slow movements. “What bothered you earlier in the bridal suite?”

I thought about his question and the soft way he’d asked it, like he was requesting the information versus assuming he should have it.

His slow sweeps continued, as if warming me and protecting me at the same time. “It’s okay if you don’t want to share. I just wanted to ask... you know, in case you wanted to talk about it.”

“It’s not a big deal.” I focused on the path of his palm over my skin and not the way my heart rate ticked up.It shouldn’t be a big deal.Like I always did, I tamped down those emotions that might get in my way. If something could make me feel like that, it could hold me back. “My dad left my mom and me when I was in high school. She got really sick, and he took off. My best friend, Michael, he...” The sentence caught in my throat before I thought about saying the words. I hadn’t talked about Michael in years. Iwondered if he was the last man I’d truly counted on to be there for me. “Um, he ghosted me shortly after. Said I was too sad.”

I expected him to say “I’m sorry,” or some other platitude. Years ago, I had decided I could be with Case when I told him about my dad leaving us and he asked immediately about child support. If I’d brought up my old friend Michael, he would have rolled his eyes, so I’d kept it quiet. His questions were simple to answer, factual. He didn’t ask how any of it made me feel, and I never shared. Lear didn’t say anything but kept moving his hand in that long arc. I didn’t like the silence. “So, people peacing out just... gets to me sometimes.”

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.

“You don’t tell people that often, do you? Things that get to you.”

“I tell you that you annoy me all the time.”

He smiled but didn’t laugh or otherwise respond, giving me time to steer the conversation.

I let out a sigh. “But, no. I don’t. I’ve never seen the point. Do you?”

He shook his head. “Not so much anymore.”

“You still don’t want to talk about what you said to her?”

He shook his head again, in a slow nudge of his chin against my temple. The air conditioner in the room kicked on, filling the silence with a low hum. I’d heard a lot of his story when he’d talked to the jilted bride, heard in his voice how someone had broken him. I didn’t want to ask him to share that. I wasn’t sure I was someone who even could respond the right way. “I should go,” I said, not moving from under his touch. “It’s late.”

“You could stay.” He slid his hand up my ribs, the tip of his thumb grazing the side of my breast, but kept going to my shoulder. “Give me a chance for extra credit.”

“We never spend the night.”

He stroked my shoulder. “We don’t.”

“But...” I held my breath as his fingers moved up my neck and across my nape, not wanting to move away from his touch. “It’s a hotel room, so not home.”

Lear’s lips dipped to my neck, nose brushing my skin. “It is.”

“And it’s technically morning already, so it’s not spending the night...”

Lear’s palm slid lower down my belly. “And we’re not going to sleep.”

“You should sleep.” My breath stuttered when he rolled, the length of his body pressed to mine. “You’re tired.”

Lear’s fingers inched down the crease where my thigh met my hip, and he spoke against my jaw. “Do I feel tired?”

When his hand ghosted over my clit, the sensation of barely being touched rocked me, and he chuckled against my chin.

“Stay.” His fingertips dipped lower, circling my tight bundle of nerves, and I groaned.

“Okay,” I said with a sharp inhale, letting my thighs fall apart. “Only so you can earn your A.”

Lear pulled his head back enough to look into my eyes, his grin making a dimple pop. “That’s generous.”