Page 33 of Best of Me

“Don’t be silly. Your bed is colossal; we can share.”

I swallow hard. This simple decision feels momentous, like I’m standing at the precipice of what could be my future, but only if I take the leap. The thing is, even if things between Mallory and me stay completely—well, mostly—platonic, something tells me she’s worth the leap.

I reclaim the right side of my bed, slipping beneath the covers, my body held rigid. Of course, Mallory picks up on my discomfort right away. “What’s wrong?”

Embarrassment blankets me, and I switch off the table lamp, plunging the room into darkness before replying. “I…you…you’re the first woman I’ve spent the night with since Valorie.”

When stark silence meets my admission, I regret sharing it. Lord only knows what she’s thinking right about now.

“Like, spent the night with as in sleeping or as in…?” Her words fall away, but my brain fills them in just fine.

God, this is humiliating. “Um.” I cough. “I mean, I haven’t been a saint, but I haven’t actually slept with someone in any sense of the word since she passed away.”

“Oh, Duke.” Mallory reaches out in the dark and brushes her fingers over my brow bone and down my cheek. “There’s no shame in that. Everyone grieves differently and heals at different speeds. There’s no right or wrong way, and there’s definitely no rulebook. You have to honor what feels right for you and your process. And if anyone judges you for it, then forget them. You don’t need them anyway.”

Where in the hell did this girl come from?“You know what? You’re right.” I grab her hand and press a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Goodnight, Cricket. Sleep tight.”

She rolls to her other side so she’s facing away from me. “Sweet dreams, Duke.”

chapter nineteen

Duke

The sound of an unfamiliar alarm rouses me from what has to be one of the best nights of sleep I’ve ever had. I’m not sure what time it is, but the fact that the sun rose before me speaks volumes.

As my body catches up with my brain, the reason for my great night’s sleep becomes apparent.Mallory.I’m wrapped around her, with my knee wedged between her legs and my hand splayed across her lower belly, holding her to me as if she’s the most precious thing.

Her alarm sounds again, and as she fumbles around reaching for it, her ass brushes against my morning wood. I hiss at the contact, loving it just as much as I hate it. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve gone so long without, but suddenly I’m so hungry for intimacy that my entire body is wrung tight with need. I want nothing more than to flip Mallory to her back, crawl between her thighs, thread my fingers through her long, unruly hair, and kiss her senseless.

Once she finally manages to silence her phone, she rolls to face me. “G’morning,” she whispers, her morning voice so sexy it feels like a warm caress across my skin.

Unable to deny myself any longer, I reach over and brush her hair from her face. “Good morning, Cricket.”

She smiles shyly, averting her gaze. The loss of her attention feels like someone stole the sun, leaving me in the dark cold. With two fingers beneath her chin, I bring her eyes back to mine. “You sleep okay?”

“I did. You?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in years,” I tell her honestly, allowing a bit of vulnerability to bleed into my words.

“Really?”

I nod, reaching for her again, this time twining our hands together. For some reason, I can’t stop myself from touching her. The feeling of her skin on mine is like a fucking drug, and I’m an addict, fiending for my next hit.

“Yeah, I-I haven’t slept like this since before…” My words drop off, but we both know what I’m referring to. I haven’t slept through the night since the day Valorie died. I can’t decide if this breakthrough, with her of all people, is some kind of weird, cosmic stars-aligning thing or it’s so far past fucked there’s not a word for it. Either way, it’s the sweetest kind of torture.

Now it’s Mallory who’s reaching for me, running her fingers over my scruff. She parts her lips as if to speak when her alarm blares to life again, effectively ruining the moment.

“Shit!” Mallory scrambles out of the bed, looking some kind of fine in my shirt. “It’s almost six-thirty! I’ve got to get ready. Can…can I shower here?”

“Go for it. There are clean towels under the sink.”

“Thanks!” She flits away, grabbing her duffel before locking herself into the en suite.

I hear her humming before the sound of water running through the pipes drowns her out. All of the sudden it hits me—she’s bare-ass naked in there, and the only thing truly separating us is a flimsy-as-hell wooden door. The thought of busting it down, flinging back the curtain, and begging her to let me join her takes over. My dick perks up as I envision water and suds sluicing off her tight little body. Unable to bear it a second longer, I stalk into the kitchen. If I can’t taste her, I may as well whip us both up some breakfast.

Mallory

Duke’s bathroom is far more luxurious than I imagined it to be, with an oversized walk-in shower with a plethora of wall jets and one of those fancy rainfall showerheads. It’s no soaker-tub, but it’s a close second.

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