Page 33 of Faking It Right
He considered the taste, his expression unreadable. “Not the worst,” he finally decided, looking surprised at his own assessment.
My heart raced with hope at the small but significant step. “High praise,” I teased, trying to keep my voice light despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late,” I replied with a grin, reaching for the tissues on his nightstand. As I cleaned us both up, I couldn’t stop stealing glances at him, memorizing the relaxed set of his shoulders and the thoughtful look in his eyes.
We’d crossed a line tonight that we couldn’t uncross. And despite my bravado and flirting, I found myself terrified and exhilarated in equal measure by what that might mean.
I threw the dirty tissues in the trash can next to the nightstand, then pulled Ryker down beside me. The mattress dipped under our combined weight as we nestled together, with me behind him. I draped my arm around his waist, pulling him closer until there wasn’t a breath of space between us.
His body against mine was sheer perfection, with the curve of his spine aligned with my chest, his ass snug against my groin, our legs tangled in a boneless mess. I’d imagined the moment a thousand times, but the reality of holding him exceeded every fantasy I’d ever conjured.
Ryker squirmed in my embrace. “Why do I have to be the little spoon?”
“Because you fit just right,” I whispered against his ear, feeling him melt into my embrace. My lips brushed the sensitive skin beneath his earlobe, sending a slight shiver through him. “I was made to hold you.”
He made a noncommittal noise, but his body betrayed him as he surrendered further into my embrace. I smiled against his hair, relishing my small victory.
I still buzzed pleasantly from my release, my afterglow heightened by the simple joy of holding Ryker close. My fingers traced lazy patterns on his stomach, not to arouse but simply to reassure myself it was real and not another vivid dream.
For years, I’d hidden genuine feelings behind relentless flirting. Now, with Ryker cradled in my arms after what we’d just shared, I allowed myself to hope that maybe we could be together for real.
The room’s quiet wrapped around us like a cozy cocoon, the only sounds our synchronized breathing and the occasional creak of the house settling.
“I guess it’s kind of nice to be held for once,” he murmured, his voice soft and vulnerable. He snuggled back into my hold, as if trying to get even closer.
I hugged him tighter, tucking my knees behind his, living for the comfort of the moment. My heart swelled with an emotion too big to name, too precious to examine too closely for fear it might shatter.
“It’s nice for me, too,” I admitted, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his shoulder. “Better than nice.”
His hand found mine resting on his stomach, his fingers weaving between my own. “Who knew I’d enjoy being the little spoon?”
“There are plenty of things you might enjoy that you haven’t tried yet,” I teased but kept my voice gentle to not ruin the mood.
Ryker huffed a laugh that I felt more than heard. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”
“Live what down? The fact that you fit perfectly in my arms?” I nuzzled against his hair. “Or that you secretly love it?”
“Both,” he grumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his tone. If anything, he sounded content.
I tightened my arm around him. “Your secret’s safe with me, snookums.”
“Don’t call me that,” he protested.
“Would ‘love nugget’ be better?”
His body shook with laughter. “That’s beyond terrible.”
“I’ll keep workshopping it,” I promised, grinning against his shoulder. “I’ve got all week.”
We fell silent again, the comfortable kind that comes from years of friendship blooming into something new and tender. I listened to his breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath my arm, and wondered what thoughts swirled in his mind.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.
Ryker was quiet for so long I thought he might not respond. “I’m thinking about how this doesn’t feel as weird as it should.”
“Is that good or bad?”
