Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“That we are so, so fucking stupid.”
The corner of his mouth comes up in a tiny hint of a smile. “I see.”
“What?”
He lifts his eyebrow. “You were so goddamn hard when we almost got caught, Noah.”
“Quit smiling.”
But I’m starting to smile again, too.
And something about his expression stuns me.
How gorgeous he looks when he smiles—really smiles, like he’s not just being clever or mysterious, he’s just lost in the moment and acting totally free for once.
He tackles me onto my mattress, his hands coming down on both of my shoulders and laying me flat.
He straddles me, pushing his knees onto either side of my hips.
I wrestle him back, smacking his hands away as he pinches at one of my nipples and then my stomach.
Finally, he relents, collapsing down on the far side of my bed, grabbing my second pillow and propping it up behind his head. Suddenly I’m looking at Torin relaxing on my mattress, draping his legs over my lap and lounging like he fucking owns the place.
Impossible.
“Go to sleep,” he murmurs.
I stare at him blankly for a moment, wondering if he’s playing some long-game prank on me.
Fuck it.
If he’s trying to screw with me, I can catch his bluff from a hundred goddamn miles away. There’s no shot he’s staying in my bed, but I’m not going to be the one to kick him out.
I reach over to the nightstand and shut off the lamp.
The room goes dim as my eyes slowly adjust the filtered moonlight from outside.
“So… tell me about coffee beans,” he says the moment I start to get comfortable.
“Too sleepy.”
“You can tell me about how often you jerk off, if that’s more interesting for you—”
“Is this how you expect to lull people to sleep?” I ask. “Interrogating them?”
“I’m just curious about you, Daisy. Do you hate when I call you that?”
“I’m too tired to hate anything.”
“Mmm. Guess that means you don’t hate me anymore now, either.”
I pull in a long breath and turn over in bed, facing in his direction.
He’s lying there on his side looking wide awake, gazing at me from the other pillow. He nudges his legs over toward me, draping one leg over mine.
Can’t believe this is happening.
“Listen. I felt like I was going to pass out already at that poker table, and after coming that hard, I’m cooked,” I tell him. “So if you’re expecting me to entertain you, you’re shit out of luck.”
I shove his leg aside and shift around on the other side of the bed, rearranging the sheets.
And as I settle in bed, I realize that I like having him there still.
After the way I’ve felt all week, his presence feels enormous. He’s always impossible to ignore, but I don’t think I’d even want to ignore him right now.
I listen to him exhale, and I wonder if he’s going to sleep at all tonight.
I let you in.
And I know I’ll have to pay the consequences for that sometime.
But for tonight, it almost feels like you belong here.
18
Torin
It only takes a few minutes in the dark on Noah’s bed before I realize how dead tired I’ve been, too.
There’s something about his mattress that’s better than the one in my room, because it feels like I’m on a plush cloud from the moment I settle in.
I like being surrounded by the scent of him.
It’s always been confusing how much I enjoy the way Noah smells. Even when he’s dead set on being a pain in my ass, there’s always been that comforting, clean-laundry smell that seems to surround him like an aura.
I don’t plan on sleeping a wink, but I’m dozing in less than ten minutes.
It doesn’t last long.
I drift off easily, but I wake up probably only half an hour later, as Noah tosses and turns a few times under the sheets.
And then it happens again, soon after.
And then again.
It starts to feel like every twenty minutes I’m waking up to him moving around and changing positions in bed.
After the third or fourth time, I blink open my eyes and I see moonlight pooling on his face.
He’s wide awake, facing upward toward the ceiling with his eyes open.
“Quit moving around,” I mutter at him, still half-asleep.
He blinks as he looks over at me. “Shit. Did I wake you up?”
I push away the sheets and wrap my arm over his torso, getting in closer and closer until my chest settles onto his, and I’m draping myself over the top of him.
I look up to meet his eyes.
His expression seems softer right now, like he’s forgotten his usual mission of trying to look stern whenever I’m in his presence.
His cheeks have that porcelain look in the grey-blue light.
“You woke me up many times,” I say. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?”
“Not usually. Lately, though.”
“Mmm.”
I reach a hand up and stroke my fingers through his hair a few times, marveling at the way his eyes look somehow bluer in the pale moonlight, too.