Page 62 of Until You Say Stay
Eventually, I stifle a yawn, the long day and travel catching up with me. The cocktail isn’t helping my sudden wave of tiredness.
“We should probably head back,” Jack says, noticing. “Tomorrow starts early. And you look about five minutes from falling asleep in that chair.”
I nod and gather my things, very aware that heading back means facing the heart-shaped bed situation. We ride the elevator down a few floors, neither speaking, and there’s a tension that wasn’t there before, an awareness of what’s waiting for us.
Back in the suite, the heart-shaped bed looms large, impossible to ignore. I grab my pajamas and retreat to the bathroom to change and go through my skincare routine, taking longer than strictly necessary. When I finally emerge in sleep shorts and a t-shirt from Dolly Parton’sPlain & Simpletour, Jack has changed into sweatpants and a tanktop and is arranging a makeshift bed on the floor with extra pillows and blankets.
“You really don’t have to sleep on the floor,” I say, feeling guilty as I watch him try to create a comfortable sleeping spot on the plush-but-definitely-not-meant-for-sleeping carpet.
“It’s fine,” he insists, fluffing a pillow. “I’ve slept in worse places.”
I climb into the heart-shaped bed, which is extremely comfortable despite its shape, and try to settle in. But after ten minutes, I can’t take it anymore.
“This is stupid,” I say, sitting up. “This bed is huge. Just get up here. We’re adults. We can share a bed without it being weird.”
Jack hesitates, clearly weighing his options.
“Seriously,” I add. “I promise not to steal all the covers. Or push you out of the heart. I’ll even build a pillow wall to protect your virtue if it makes you feel better.”
He laughs at that, finally relenting. “Well, when you put it that way. But only because this floor is harder than it looks. And I’m holding you to that cover-stealing promise.”
The bed dips as he climbs in on the other side, keeping respectful space between us.
Totally normal. Just two adults sharing a giant heart-shaped bed. We’re joking about it, which means we’re handling this maturely. Nothing awkward about two fake-dating people maintaining appropriate space in a bed literally designed for the opposite.
Jack shifts slightly, turning to face me. The moonlight streaming through the balcony doors washes over him, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the intensity in his eyes. My mouth goes dry.
“Goodnight, Lark,” he says, his voice lower than before.
“Goodnight,” I manage to reply, quickly turning to face the wall before he can see what must be written all over my face. My heart is pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.
Every cell in my body is aware of him—the rhythm of his breathing, the lingering scent of his cologne, the heat radiating from him. If I moved just a few inches back, I’d be against him. The thought sends a shiver down my spine. I could finish what I started last night in my hallway. The kiss flashes through my mind unbidden—the way he pulled me closer, the heat of his mouth on mine. Howincredibleit felt before I came to my senses and ran.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try desperately to think about anything else. The schedule for tomorrow. New song lyrics. The sponsors I’ll meet. Anything.
But all I can think about is Jack. Jack Midnight is in bed with me, just inches away. Jack, with his quick smile and quicker wit. Jack, who looks at me sometimes like he can see right through me. Jack, who I absolutely should not be thinking about in the way I definitely am right now.
This is going to be a very long night.
CHAPTER 15
JACK
I wake up gradually, awareness seeping in slowly before I open my eyes. The bed is impossibly soft beneath me, sheets of expensive Egyptian cotton against my skin. For a moment, I can’t remember where I am, and then it all comes flooding back. Miami. The Azura. The ridiculous heart-shaped bed.
Lark.
She’s still asleep beside me, facing me now. Her black hair fans across the white pillow like spilled ink, one hand tucked under her cheek, her breathing deep and even. Peaceful.
The early morning light filtering through the balcony doors casts a golden glow across her skin. My gaze traces the curve of her shoulder, the delicate line of her collarbone, the fullness of her lips. She’s beautiful in a way that makes my chest tighten and my cock hard.
I should get up. I should look away. Instead, I lie there, memorizing her. The way her eyelashes fan against her cheeks. The small freckle near the corner of her mouth that I’ve thought about kissing every single time I’ve seen it. The rise and fall of her chest with each breath.
I slip out of bed as carefully as possible, trying not to disturb her, but the movement makes the mattress shift. She stirs slightly, murmurs something incomprehensible, then settles back into sleep. I grab my phone from the nightstand and head for the bathroom, stepping into the shower and letting the water run hot over me.
Under the spray, I try to focus on the day ahead instead of Lark. Anything but thinking about theverylong list of dirty things I’d like to do to the barely clothed woman in my bed. The woman who kissed me, then bolted.
I need to get my head fucking straight. Focus on what actually matters this weekend.
