Page 34 of Wish You Knew
He took my chin and turned my face to his. “No, I mean sleep with you. Wake up with you.”
It was possibly the most intimate thing he’d ever said to me. I couldn’t remember ever staying the night with him, even when we’d dated.
Mutely, I nodded. We got to our feet. Scott took my hand and led me upstairs to his bedroom.
The bed was perfectly made, which surprised me. I had him pegged as a mussed up, messy bed kind of guy. Then again, I’d gotten a few things wrong about him recently.
Without a word, he lifted the covers and indicated for me to slide underneath the crisp cotton. I shivered as the cool material hit my overheated skin. Scott slid in and spooned me. The unexpected feel of his skin so close to mine made me shudder all over again.
He nuzzled the back of my neck. “Goodnight, Rosie. Sleep well.”
“You too.” I snuggled into his embrace and closed my eyes.
Within minutes, I’d fallen into a deep sleep, my dreams full of Scott.
17
Scott
“Who else has a breakfast of fruit and pancakes at…” Rosie glanced up at the huge railway clock on the wall. “Two o’clock in the afternoon?”
We had resumed our position on the couch in the living room, albeit semi-dressed, after a lazy morning lying in bed, talking, touching, exploring. Neither of us had bothered to shower yet, hunger for food rather than each other, taking precedence.
I’d made an effort: microwaved a bunch of readymade pancakes and chucked a load of pre-prepared fruit into a bowl. Topped it with some thick Greek yoghurt and maple syrup, and voila: breakfast of champions. I’d even made a cafetière of coffee. My culinary skills were improving.
Rosie crossed her legs and tucked the throw around them. She reached for another piece of melon, sucking the juice off her fingers, making my cock twitch. She looked utterly, gloriously, fuckable, dressed only in an old Trash Gun t-shirt she’d found in my room, her hair mussed up and tumbling over her shoulders.
“Why have we never done this before?” she mused; a question I’d already thought of. Having spent yesterday together and then waking up in the same bed without of one of us—okay, me—running out. It was different. Actually talking, and genuinely enjoying each other’s company, came as a total revelation. I’d always suspected Rosie and I had a true connection, but I’d always been too stubborn to see it.
“What? Have fucking amazing sex? We’ve always done that.” I winked, trying to deflect the real feelings I wrestled with.
She threw a raspberry at me. I made a big deal of catching it, then putting it between my teeth and sucking on it. My gaze fell to her chest, giving her every indication of where my mind was.
“You know what I mean.” She gestured to the breakfast trays, and us curled up on the sofa. “This.”
I softened. “Makes a change, doesn’t it?”
“But why now?”
Oh, she was full of questions this morning. Perhaps that was one of the reasons I never stayed the night. I didn’t know how to answer her. I didn’t know why now. I didn’t really know what had changed to make me think differently. Seeing her so vulnerable after Mark tried to spike her hit me hard. I’d wanted to look after her, protect her, make sure she came to no harm. All things I hadn’t never felt before. Maturity, was that it? Stepping up and taking responsibility for someone. I gulped down some coffee to quell the butterflies in my stomach.
No.
Not maturity.
Love.
I fucking loved her.
Her beautiful blue eyes were fixed on me, blinking as she waited for my answer.
I choked.
I couldn’t tell her. Even though every fibre of my being screamed at me to stop being a naive idiot, the words wouldn’t come. If I put myself out there and she didn’t feel the same, I didn’t know what I’d do. Die of shame, probably.
No. I had to be the Scott Lincoln she knew. The one who didn’t give a fuck, who seemingly didn’t care, the one who was only into her for the benefits.
I hated myself, but I couldn’t do it. I simply couldn’t do it.
