Page 40 of The Ex Project
“I should go then.” She reaches for the door handle and sways, almost falling off the stoop into the garden beside us. I reach out for her and loop an arm around her waist to steady her.
“Let me get you into bed,” I murmur, our lips an inch away from kissing. If I tilted my head slightly, they would make contact. Instead, I take the key away from her with my other hand and set her on her feet. Unlocking the door, I swing it wide so I can pick her up and carry her through. I lift her under her knees and cradle her shoulders. She doesn’t protest—her arms wrap around my neck, our faces so close I can feel the soft puff of breath she lets out.
I can smell it, too. It smells like tequila. What the fuck was she drinking tonight?
I carry her inside and shut the door behind us with a clickbefore taking her upstairs. My heart throbs when I step into her room. It looks like it hasn’t even been touched since she left. Everything is the way I remember it. Being back here with Wren brings up all kinds of memories, old feelings. Like sneaking up the trellis on the side of her house and climbing in through her window so I didn’t have to be without her for one night.
I set her down on the twin bed in the corner. The soft, hand-sewn cotton quilt is so familiar and nostalgic as I peel the covers back. I’m about to tuck her in when she whispers into the dark.
“Can you get this stupid crunchy dress off of me?” Her voice is low, sleepy. All I want to do is get that dress off of her, but I’m barely holding on to my self-control as it is … and undressing her? Even monks don’t have that much self-restraint. There are layers upon layers of tulle under the skirt. It looks horribly uncomfortable, so I carefully unzip the back and slide it over her shoulder, down and down until, inch by inch, Wren’s black lace bra is on display.
She was almost asleep, but now she’s watching me, the air thick and heady between us. I slide the dress further, exposing the smooth tan skin of her abdomen, and I want to trail my mouth down it, following the dress.
Soon, she’s in nothing but her bra and a matching black lace thong as I slip the magenta polyester over her feet. I quickly cover her with a blanket, because if I stand here looking at her for much longer, I’m going to do something I regret.
As I stand, she mutters something else. One word that has my grip on control slipping.
“Stay.” She opens her eyes at me when she grabs my hand as I’m about to leave, like a responsible person would. “Please.”
My head tilts to one side, trying to gauge whether I’ll be able to do nothing but sleep with our bodies pressed up against each other in the tiny twin-sized bed. My skin touching hers in that fucking sexy lingerie. I won’t get undressed. I’ll keep my clothes on. Wren can obviously tell I’m wavering, so she pleads with me again.
“I don’t want to sleep here alone tonight. Please stay.”
“Come on, Miller, you don’t have to beg,” I say, a teasing tone in my voice. I climb in beside her, and she shifts over to make room for me. Once I’m next to her and comfortable, she shifts again, coming closer to me. She folds herself into the front of me, nuzzling her head into my chest, and all I can do is wrap my arms around her. I breathe in the sweet smell of her hair, revelling in the feeling of her soft, silky strands against my cheek.
“Why don’t you want to kiss me?” Wren asks, her drunkenness making her bold and emotional.God, I do. I’ve wanted to kiss Wren Miller for the last ten years. My heart aches in my chest at the thought of leaving the question unanswered between us. Now that I know how Wren feels about me, I don’t want to risk leaving anything unsaid. I take her face in my hand and tilt her head back so we’re face to face in the dark. The whites of her eyes glimmer in the moonlight streaming in through the window.
“We’re inebriated.” She moves her head to turn away like she did the other day when she was sitting on the counter in her kitchen. This time I hold her firm. “I’ve waitedten years to be with you again, Miller. When I kiss you, I want all your senses sharp. I’m going to make damn sure you feelevery single thing. Every ounce of love I’ve been saving for you.”
My answer must satisfy her because she nuzzles her face into my chest again, and I let her this time. A few minutes later, she’s asleep, snoring softly next to me. I stay awake for a while longer, breathing her in, not wanting to miss a single second of this.
CHAPTER 18
WREN
My head is throbbingthis morning. My heart is beating in my eyeballs. Whatever I had to drink last night is not sitting well with me, but I’ve managed to get myself somewhat dressed. I’m not my usual put-together self, but I found my favourite old slouchy denim shorts in my closet, and my favourite worn tee. Good enough.
I throw big sunglasses over my puffy eyes, slip on some flip-flops, and make my way to Thistle + Thorne. With any luck, Poppy escaped a hangover and she’ll be there to make me something to soak up the alcohol still roiling in my gut.
Hudson left early, after the sound of his pager woke both of us up in the small hours of the morning. I turned back over to go to sleep, thinking he might come back, but instead I woke up to a text saying he would head home. My heart dropped as I read it, triggering a whole new wave of nausea, and I ran to the bathroom, telling myself it was for the best he wasn’t seeing me like this.
The café is relatively empty as I enter, and Poppy waves atme over the espresso machine. It’s not unusual, but something is off about her. The way she waves at me looks … frantic. Like she’s trying to get my attention without saying anything. I furrow my brows at her in question—I’m going to need a little more in the fog state of my hangover. Her eyes go wide, and she tilts her head to the end of the counter. In my peripheral vision, I catch a blonde head of hair.
“Wren!”
Emma.Emma.
She’s already walking towards me, a bright smile on her face. Too cheery for my liking this morning. God, her voice is sochipper, and it’s so loud.
“Emma! Hi!” I mirror her high-pitched tone, but even I can tell it sounds false.
“I was wondering if I might run into you. I wanted to see how you were doing after the other night. I almost asked Hudson for your number so I could check in.”
My mouth opens but no words come out, because seeing her this morning sends a sickening wave of realization over me. Everything that happened last night flashes through my mind with horrifying clarity.
The beer pong.
Hudson walking me home.
