Page 68 of She Was Made for Me

I glance at our surroundings, at the air mattress and single pillow. At least I’ve got sheets, but still…

“I’m sorry we aren’t somewhere more romantic.” I press a kiss to her cheek and she turns to face me.

“Um, I was ready to fuck you up against the garden wall at a Rogue Valley concert.” She gives me a sly grin that slowly morphs into a soft smile. “It’s you I want, Kyle, not some fancy bed. As long as I’m with you, I don’t care.”

Oh, God. Sweet girl.

I stroke her hair. “Goodnight,” I whisper, afraid to say anything more, but she’s already dozing off in my arms.

I hold her close, hoping she can’t feel the way my heart is jackhammering. Whatever this is between us, I have to find a way to make it last.

26

Violet

Golden light streams in and it takes me a moment to remember where I am when I wake the next morning, the heat of the day already beginning, even though it’s early. Kyle’s arm is slung over me, his head at an awkward angle without a pillow, and I wince at what that will do to his neck. I should have given him his pillow back.

I roll over to face him properly and he stirs at the movement. His eyes flutter open, his unfocused gaze landing on my face, assessing for a moment, then crinkling at the corners into a smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

My heart melts at his affectionate nickname for me. Every time he called me that last night, I fell a little harder. I knew the sex would be amazing—and I wasnotdisappointed—but what I didn’t expect was to feel so close to him, to feel…things.

“Good morning.” I trail a finger down his bicep, studying the details of his tattoo. It’s the silhouette of a moose surrounded by tall pines, the peaks of mountain ranges stretching above onto his shoulder. “I love this,” I say, touching my fingers to the ink. “Does it mean anything?”

He gives a sleepy nod. “I got it when I moved to Maine. I was hiking one afternoon and came across a huge moose. It was October, which is their mating season, and a bull moose can be quite aggressive during that time. He wasn’t pleased to see me.”

“Wow.” I stare at Kyle, enthralled. “What happened?”

“We had a sort of stare-down, and eventually he turned and left. I was lucky, but felt a weird kinship to this animal, alone in the forest, trying to go about his life without people getting in the way.” Kyle shrugs. “The moment felt significant, so I got the ink.”

“I love that.” I trace a finger over the moose, wondering if I would ever get a tattoo, if anything would ever feel significant enough to permanently etch it on my skin. Nothing in my life has ever felt that meaningful. At least, not in a good way.

Kyle’s eyes are a lighter shade of green this morning, hazy from sleep as his gaze moves across my face. I lift my head and shuffle the pillow closer so we can share it. It brings our mouths very close, and I lean forward to brush my lips against his, stroking a hand across the coarse texture of his beard. I know we have work to do, but I don’t want this moment to end. I want to stay here and ask him more about his life in Maine, to feel his heart beating against my cheek as I lay it on his chest, to listen to the gravelly way his voice sounds after sleep. All these tiny intimacies I never get with him during the day.

I draw back to study his face, trying to read his thoughts. Part of me worried he’d wake up filled with regret, insistent that we had to pretend this hadn’t happened, but the way he snakes his arm around my waist to pull me into him makes me relieved. I hadn’t thought much past last night, but now I can’t imagine not doing it again. I can’t imagine going back to the way we were before.

In an attempt to express this, I open my mouth, but a bang from downstairs makes us both freeze. Kyle’s brows slash together and he disentangles himself from me to reach for his phone.

“Shit.” He bolts upright. “It’s almost eight. The guys will be outside.”

There’s another noise downstairs, this time louder, and I chuckle. “I think someone is already inside.”

Kyle’s gaze darts to me. “How would they get in?”

“I gave Dale a key weeks ago,” I say, clasping the sheet to my bare chest as I sit up. “I guess he’s never had to use it because one of us is usually up.”

“Fuck.” Kyle scrapes a hand down his face, the color draining from his complexion. “You have to get downstairs without being seen.”

“It’s only Dale,” I mutter, trying not to get irritated at the way he wants to suddenly discard me. “What will he care?”

Kyle shakes his head, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, fumbling for his work shorts. “Your dad hired him, Vi. If he sees us, he might decide to tell Rich.”

“Couldn’t we just ask him not to?”

Kyle grimaces. “You know how old fashioned he is. I doubt he’d find this”—he motions between us—“okay. He’d probably think I took advantage of you.”

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