Page 14 of Wishing Hearts

“Which is why it’s perfect,” I respond. “You don’t know me. So what’s the harm? You can tell me whatever you want. Get it off your chest.”

He shudders out an uneven breath, and then he starts to talk. There are no details. No specifics. Just the weight of the world on his shoulders and the feel of his hand held tightly in mine.

Chapter 5

Harrison

When I wake up to my phone alarm going off, I groan a little weakly. I reach toward the nightstand where it’s resting, but a weight around my chest keeps me from going far.

“Hrm,” Sam grumbles, tightening his grip.

And oh. Oh.

“Sam,” I say quietly, running my hand over the bristly hairs on his forearm. He’s warm beneath my fingertips and oh so firm. Real. Tempting.

But then I remember the venting words that poured from my mouth last night as if I were nothing more than a broken faucet, and I let my hand slip away.

“My alarm is going off,” I point out.

Sam grumbles again, sinking his face against the back of my neck. I squeeze my eyes tight. It feels too good, having someone near. Someone like Sam.

I shouldn’t get used to it.

This time, when I reach forward, Sam relaxes his grip. I shut off my alarm and sink back against the mattress.

“Sorry about last night,” I say.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ’bout,” Sam says.

His arm is hanging loosely around my middle now, and it’d be easy for me to slide away. Put some distance between us.

But I don’t.

“Still,” I say, feeling guilty for ruining what was headed in the direction of being one heck of a hookup. “That wasn’t what you came here for.”

No, the reason Sam came here was T-boned by my own dejected attitude after I spent an hour and a half soothing my crying daughter.

Fuck.

“Harrison,” Sam says gently, his lips brushing the back of my neck. The sensation makes me shiver. “I had a good night.”

I huff a little. Can’t help it. “Right. Because finding out how much of a mess I am was a good time for you. Very attractive, I’m sure.”

Sam hums a little, tightening his hold. “If you think last night made me want you any less, you’d be sorely mistaken,” he says, sliding his hand to my stomach and anchoring there, fingers splayed wide.

My pulse kicks up, and thank God for the shirt I’m wearing, or I’m not sure I’d have the willpower to shift away. If his skin were against my own…

“We need to go,” I say, sliding out of Sam’s grip.

He groans, and when I look back at him, his eyes are still sleepy and hooded. “Yeah, all right,” he says around a yawn, rolling over and swinging his legs out of bed. He stretches his arms high in the air, and my eyes track every single muscle that ripples and pops beneath his skin.

Sam looks over his shoulder at me, catching my ogling. He doesn’t say a word, just drops out of bed and heads to the dresser, where his jeans are hanging over a drawer. He tugs them on silently, and I do my damndest to tear my gaze away from his brief-covered ass.

Good grief.

I’m tempted to say fuck this day and pull Sam back into bed for more than just sleepy cuddling, but a ding from my phone pulls my attention. It’s a text from my mom.

Mom: She’s doing better this morning. Eating pancakes now.

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