Page 51 of Flag On The Play
She lets out a breathy laugh. “That’s a dangerous question to ask a woman who walked into a candlelit penthouse and had mindblowing sex like she stepped into a damn movie.”
“I meant it in a good way,” I say, tightening my hold on her. “Unless you hate flowers and wine and a guy trying way too hard.”
Her lips quirk. “I don’t hate it. I just don’t know what to do with it.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” I say. “You’re already here. That’s enough.”
She nods, her gaze dropping to her hands for a beat. Then, slowly, she leans her head on my shoulder.
Her hair brushes my jaw, and I breathe her in. She smells like vanilla and sin.
“You know,” I murmur, “when you’re not yelling at me or threatening to knee me in the balls, you are sweet.”
She lifts her head and raises an eyebrow. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Never,” I say, tucking her hair behind her ear. “But I’ll take it when I can.”
She smiles, and damn, it hits me harder than a blindside tackle. That smile is real, and for a second, I believe that this is too.
“And Nova, I already told you, I’m not going anywhere.”
CHAPTER 15
NOVA
Iwake up to warmth.
Not the kind you fake with extra blankets or cheap heaters. The kind that sinks into your skin, anchors you to the moment, and makes you never want to leave.
It’s coming from him.
One of his arms is slung over my waist, his body curved around mine like we were made to fit. And God help me it feels right. Too right.
Sunlight slips through the curtains, bathing the room in soft gold. I can see the skyline through the massive windows, but all I can really focus on is the steady sound of his breathing behind me. Calm. Even. Completely unbothered by the emotional wreckage he’s left me drowning in.
Because last night wasn’t like the first time.
It wasn’t drunk.
It wasn’t impulsive.
It meant something.
And now I have no idea what to do with that.
I shift slightly, trying to untangle myself from him without waking him up. I need space. I need air. I need to think withouthis bare chest pressed against my back and his hand curled possessively on my hip like I’m his.
Like I want to be.
“Don’t,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep, gravelly and unfairly sexy. “Five more minutes.”
My heart thuds. “I was just?—”
“You were trying to sneak out,” he says, eyes still closed, but his hand tightening. “Not happening.”
“I wasn’t?—”
“Nova,” he cuts in, finally opening his eyes. Sleepy. Soft. But locked on me like I’m the only thing in the world worth waking up for. “Stay.”
