Page 66 of Things We Hide from the Light
“Short.” Truth be told, I preferred to sleep naked. But this wasn’t the kind of situation in which to divulge that information.
Nash handed me a soft gray T-shirt that saidKnockemout Book or Treat 2015.
“Thanks,” I said.
I’d been in this man’s clothes twice in the past three days. I’d flirted with him, fought with him. I’d done him a favor and hadhis back when he needed me. Now I was about to climb into bed with him. Things seemed to be accelerating awfully fast, even for me.
“You can take the bathroom first,” he said solicitously.
“Thanks, bed buddy.”
“Bed buddy?” I mouthed in the mirror after I closed the door between us. What was wrong with me?
I did my final bathroom break business, then stripped out of my clothes. His T-shirt hit me at midthigh, but the fact that I wasn’t wearing underwear made the ensemble feel less modest and more risqué. I would just have to not flail around in bed like I usually did to keep the hemline in place. I probably wouldn’t sleep anyway. Being fiercely independent was only one of the reasons I didn’t usually let men spend the night. I was a light sleeper, which meant any noise or movement that happened within a hundred-foot radius woke me up.
I gathered my clothes and returned to the bedroom where I was temporarily rendered speechless. Nash was shirtless and barefoot, and his jeans were unbuttoned.
“Be out in five,” he said.
I nodded, still unable to form words.
The bedroom hadn’t escaped the cleaning frenzy, I noted. The fine layer of dust was gone, as were the prescription bottles. The curtains were drawn over the windows and he’d turned down the covers on the bed. Piper lay curled in a tiny ball in the exact center of the pillows.
The water kicked on in the bathroom and I briefly entertained the idea of tiptoeing out to his table and taking another snoop through his files. But I immediately discarded that. It would be a betrayal to use the opportunity for personal gain.
Instead, I got myself settled on the right side of the bed and scrolled through some work emails until the bathroom door opened again.
Sweet baby cheeses. His hair was damp, making it look darker than usual. His scars, one on the shoulder and one on the torso, were a puckered, pink reminder of what he’d been through. He was wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. Dark-blue ones.
His thighs and calves were muscular. A fine layer of chest hair that tapered down into a V disappeared under the waistband.
Piper’s tail tapped out a happy beat on the bedspread. If I had a tail, it would have done the same.
“That’s my side,” Nash said.
I had to look away before I managed to form words. “You have a side of the bed?”
“Don’t you?”
“I sleep alone.”
He raised an eyebrow in question and rounded the foot of the bed to approach me.
I shrugged. “What?”
Nash gave my hip a nudge and signaled for me to slide over. “You don’t share your bed? Ever?” he asked.
“I’m no virgin,” I scoffed as I scooted past Piper to the opposite side of the mattress. “But I don’t usually do sleepovers. I like sleeping alone. And since I don’thaveto share, I sleep in the middle and use all the pillows. Do you always sleep on the right?”
He shook his head. “I sleep on whatever side’s closest to the door.”
I flopped back against his pillows. “Ugh. You’re good guy hero down to the bone, aren’t you?”
“What makes you say that?” Those cool blue eyes searched mine as he pulled back the covers and got into bed.
“You sleep closest to the door so anyone who gets in has to get through you to get to Mrs. Hotshot.”
“There is no Mrs. Hotshot.”
