Page 39 of Best of Me

Mallory

I wake with a start, wondering where I am and who’s holding me. As soon as my eyes adjust, I realize I’m still on my couch with Duke. He’s sleeping soundly behind me, though I don’t know how with the way my hair is practically smothering him.

As gently as I can, I roll myself out of his embrace and get up from the couch. I’m not quite sure where I left my phone, so I pad to the kitchen to check the time. I’m shocked to see it’s five-fifteen—only forty-five minutes until my alarm is set to go off.

I’m not sure what time Duke needs to be up, and there’s definitely no point in me going back to sleep, I start a pot of coffee and hit the shower, leaving the door open a smidge so that I’ll hear if he wakes up.

As the hot water rains down over my body, I can’t help but wish I was in Duke’s shower with all of the bells and whistles. I lather up my hair, washing it twice to combat the three days of dry shampoo I was rocking before applying a conditioning mask. I really need a color appointment, but I’ve been putting it off; finding a new hairstylist is hands down one of the worst parts of moving.

I fly through the rest of my routine, wanting to finish before Duke wakes. Except, when I step out of the bathroom wrapped in only my towel, there’s six-feet-plus of man muscle leaned back against the sliding glass door, coffee in hand, looking at me like he wants nothing more than to show me just how much more enjoyable showers for two are.

“Hi.” I greet him shyly, acutely aware of the fact that I’m completely naked beneath this rectangle of terrycloth.

His eyes eat me up. “Damn, Cricket. You’re so beautiful.”

I avert my gaze; I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but beautiful has never been one of them.

Duke places his still-steaming coffee down on the little hammered bronze side table I have and steps toward me, a predatory look in his mossy green eyes. He advances, completely uncaring that I’m still slightly damp from my shower, until we stand flush. He spears his fingers into my tangled, wet hair, forcing me to look up at him. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You are so damn beautiful. Inside and out. You’re stunning, Mallory. You’re one of those few people whose insides are just as pretty as their outsides. You’re so fucking smart. You have this drive and passion that radiates out of you. You have so much heart that your kindness overflows. Your laugh is so infectious that everyone in hearing distance can’t help but smile. Your body—mmm—don’t even get me started.Your eyes are like smelted gold, precious and shining. And your lips, Cricket, they’re the most inviting, kissable lips I’ve ever seen. I daydream about claiming them far more often than I’d like to admit.”

My heart beats so furiously in my chest I swear it knocks against my rib cage. The way he’s looking at me, his face sincere and honest, tells me he meant every word. I push up on to my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. “Then do it,” I whisper just before he seals his lips to mine.

Duke kisses me completely and totally senseless until his phone chirps in his pocket. He breaks away with great reluctance. “That’s my alarm.” He speaks the words against my lips before claiming them once more. His kiss is bruising, full of want and need and longing. His phone goes off again and he groans, stepping back from me. “Let me see you again tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll text you after work.” He presses one last kiss to my forehead before he turns and walks out the front door.

As I watch him go, I’m struck with a sudden sense of…rightness…like we’re both exactly where we’re supposed to be.

chapter twenty-four

Duke

Starting my day well-rested truly is something else. It’s like as if the hazy perma-fog that’s been following me since Val’s death has finally lifted, allowing me rest, but only when I’m with Mallory. There’s something about her that calls to me, that calms the storm raging inside me. There’s something about the feel of her body wrapped in mine that allows me to sleep peacefully.

Work is a whole lot of the same. A few traffic stops, a call for some punk-ass teens that were loitering at the corner store when they should’ve been in school, but even still, I couldn’t imagine myself ever doing anything else.

“I brought you some roast,” Nate tells me as I drive us back to the station for lunch.

“All the fixings?”

Nate taps the dash twice. “You know it, brother.”

“Nice! Wait. Who made it, your mama or Jenny?”

He laughs, but he knows exactly why I’m asking. While Jenny’s roast is a solid ten out of ten, Mrs. Reynolds’ is a twenty. I don’t know what she does that makes it so damn good. Hell, the way I crave the stuff, she probably seasons it with crack.

“Mom made it.”

“Hell yes.” I throw the car into park, cut the engine, and hop out. “Come on, let’s go. Hustle, boy!”

Nate smirks. “I like this side of you.”

I squint at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

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