Page 25 of The Cupcake Standard

“To be fair, it was kind of his room first.” Amusement danced in his eyes.

Oh. “Doesn’t he live like one floor down?”

“Yeah, but even that’s too much sometimes.” He held up the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. “Like tonight. And Liam’s talent is crashing out anywhere. Choosing your bed might be more about revenge than tiredness.” Derek upended the bottle so the contents were divided equally between our glasses. Then he stood up, pulling his jeans back on.

I unabashedly watched each movement, telling myself I’d earned it fair and square. My glass in hand, I took a sip of my whiskey.

“I’m not sure what pissed Liam off more,” Derek said as we made our way to the big chair, plopping down side by side. “The fact that he didn’t get a show or that you didn’t care about the one he was putting on.”

I spoke the truth, staring at Derek. “He’s a good-looking guy, don’t get me wrong”—I rested my glass on the arm of the chair—“but he was sitting next to you.”

He sipped his whiskey, but not before I saw the absurdly pleased smile on his face.

I envied the glass, touching his lips. “What does he know about our relationship?” I took a drink.

“That it’s real.”

My gaze flew to his. Those blue eyes grabbed me hook, line and sinker as he backed up the words with the intensity of a sledgehammer that slammed into my gut. I choked on my whiskey. Sputtering and coughing with tears streaming down my cheeks, I finally cleared my airway enough to draw a breath.

“You all right?” At my nod, he frowned. “I mean it’s good stuff, but you probably shouldn’t inhale it.”

We were quiet after that. The combined warmth of Derek’s body heat and the whiskey in my belly pulled me to the edge of sleep. Next thing I knew, I was in Derek’s arms, nestled against his bare chest. “Did you put me to bed the other night?”

“Maybe.”

I knew it was a yes from the teasing tone of his voice. At least I was somewhat awake for it this time. “I can walk, you know. You can put me down.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

His quiet words had me tightening my grip on his neck as my world threatened to drop out from under me. Steady girl. “I’m not too heavy?”

“Avery,” he breathed, “no. Not at all.”

We passed my room, and I frowned. “Wait. Where are we going? I’m not sleeping with Liam.”

There went that delicious rumbling chuckle again, hitting me in places that made me want to moan. “No, you’re not.” He kicked open his bedroom door to set me down on his bed before disappearing into his bathroom.

Well, now I was wide awake. I stayed put, on the edge of his king-sized bed, my blood humming as I smoothed my fingers across the comforter. Where I’d be sleeping in mere moments. Just sleeping.

Derek came out of the bathroom, a soft smile appearing when his gaze met mine.

“Could—?” I stammered the word out, so I stopped to suck in a breath before starting again, pulling on the confident well deep within me. “Could I borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

His eyebrows lifted.

I glanced at the hallway. “It just feels weird going in there with Liam…”

He held up his hand. “No problem.” After he slid open his closet doors, he pulled a black T-shirt off the shelf. “How’s this?”

When I unfurled it, the hem grazed mid-thigh. I nodded, ducking into the bathroom.

When I came out, he perched on the edge of his bed, peeling off his jeans. His eyes slid over me, throat bobbing as his gaze raked down my bare thighs.

“Good night.” I climbed into bed, careful not to touch him.

“Good night.” He turned out the light.

We didn’t make any rules, but I knew he’d be a gentleman. If I reached for him, ravaged him, sure all bets were off. As long as I stuck to my side, I had nothing to fear from Derek. I tried to make my breathing slow and steady, but it was a long time before I actually went to sleep. My imagination would not shut off.

---