Page 59 of The Season
The thought makes me feel slightly sick, and I look to Antoine, wondering if he’s thinking the same thing. But he’s just staring at Liam and—as is usually the case—I’ve got no way of guessing what’s on his mind.
“I don’t think she likes me back,” I say hurriedly, my words spilling out in a confused ramble that mirrors my own thoughts. “And even if she did, I’d never do anything. Not like that. I’d never do anything to hurt her. I… I’ll protect her with all my might—mind and strength. I promise. If you’re worried about it, I can just sleep on the floor. I wasn’t suggesting that I sleep with her…” I shake my head, my cheeks burning.
Liam exchanges a look with Antoine who gives a short nod in reply, then Liam gives me one last assessing stare before rising to stand.
“You’re all good, mate.” His gray eyes are flinty, his lips pressed into a flat line as he folds his arms over his chest. “I trust you.” The faintest of smiles curves his lips. It’s not a friendly smile. “But hurt her, and I’ll bury you so deep in backcountry they won’t find your body until spring.”
And with that ominous proclamation, Liam leaves me alone, with an unconscious Lily in my bed and the weight of Antoine’s silent gaze for company.
Chapter18
Lily
I squeeze my eyes shut against the sunlight threatening to bring me back to consciousness, and press my face into the pillow.
Vaguely, I’m aware that the mattress I’m sleeping on is more comfortable than usual, that there isn’t any of the now-familiar squeaking that happens each time I move even the slightest amount on my air mattress.
Somewhere, in the recesses of my mind, I know I shouldn’t feel quite so warm, that this gentle but masculine scent shouldn’t be filling my nostrils. That there shouldn’t be this comforting weight wrapping around me, or these warm huffs of breath on the back of my neck.
I wriggle deeper into the blankets, smiling softly at the feeling of warmth pulsing through me in reply to those little breaths, as if my very blood has been replaced with sun-warmed honey.
Here, in the purgatory between consciousness and sleep, all these little anomalies just make me feel safe. Protected. Loved, even.
Of course, it’s just an illusion.
My eyelids flutter open, and I find myself staring at Antoine, his expression soft with sleep as he breathes through parted lips on the mattress across from me. Even on a different bed, he’s close enough that if I reached out, I could probably trace my fingertips along the smooth lines of his jaw.
I blink, my mind racing as I try to recall where I am, what I did in the moments before I got here, before I fell asleep. The memories come rushing back, painful as the morning sun, and I cringe.
Unfortunately, while I was apparently drunk enough to word-vomit how I’d kissed Eddie, and then pass out in Matty, Seth, and Antoine’s room, I wasn’t drunk enough to be spared from remembering it.
I crane my neck, straining to see the rest of the room, my cheeks burning at the sight of Seth asleep on his bed, his big frame curled around a pillow, his knees tucked up to his chest. The weight around me moves, the breath against the back of my neck becoming the softest brush of lips—and the honeyed warmth that had been coiling in my body turns to an inferno.
Matty.
After being so careful, after trying so hard not to lead him on, I’ve fallen asleep in his bed.
“Baby.” The word comes out as a whisper, so faint I’d think I’d imagined it, if I couldn’t feel the shape of it against my skin.
I bite my lip and swallow back the whimper that threatens to escape in reply.
Baby.
It’s not the first time he’s called me that, but all the other times, I could brush it off. Tell myself it didn’t mean anything, that it was a friend type ofbabyand not something more.
The covers wrapped around me suddenly feel too hot, too restrictive, and I squirm against them, only to feel them tighten in response. I frown, and quickly realize that he must be sleeping on top of the blankets, with one arm banded around my chest and his muscular thigh draped over my legs, effectively cocooning me in.
“Matty,” I whisper, reaching up to push at his arm through the blanket. “Matty, wake up.”
His hips rock against my backside in reply, the feel of him unmistakable even through the thick quilt. A shiver runs through me, hot and white, making my breaths come fast and short.
“Matty…”
The arm pinning me under the quilt lifts, settling with fumbling, sleepy movements in my hair. I take the opportunity to twist, rolling under the blankets until there’s space between his hips and mine, until I’m facing him, staring straight into his sleeping face.
“Lily…”
The word comes out in a whispered pout, his lips looking almost kiss-swollen as he says my name, and the hand that had settled in my hair drops to the back of my neck.
