Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
He lets me share his bed.
BAILEY
“Do you mind if I join you in there again?” I asked Max as I clung to the doorframe, looking into his bedroom. This would be the third night in a row, and he hadn’t turned me down yet, but I also didn’t want to assume anything.
He pulled the curtain, shutting out the darkness, and turned toward me. “Of course not. Whatever you need to be comfortable.”
I hesitated. I’d seen a glimmer of something in his eyes earlier and wanted to pursue it, but I also didn’t want to push. “You’re sure you’re okay with that?”
His expression softened. “I’m fine with it.”
Cue mental fist pump.
I hid my delight and scrambled into the side of the bed I’d claimed as mine three nights ago. It was only once I was already under the covers that I realized he wasn’t in his pajamas yet.
My pulse sped up, and I watched him from under my lashes, hoping he might change right here and now, but instead, he took a pair of striped flannel pajamas out of the room and returned a couple of minutes later.
I sighed. He looked adorable in the pajamas, but I’d have loved to see his chest again. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen it before. He swam in swim trunks that showed off his lean form, and I’d snuck as many surreptitious peeks as I could.
He switched off the light and got into the other side of the bed, lying at least a few inches away. The mattress shifted, and I was tempted to use that as an excuse to roll closer, but I settled for stretching one of my legs until my toes brushed his shin.
“Are you planning to film more content soon?” he asked, his voice soft in the darkness.
I tilted my chin up so I was facing him. “Yeah, I’ll get started tomorrow. I can’t put it off any longer.”
I’d found it strangely difficult to mentally prepare myself to record again.
Perhaps that was because the last two times I’d tried, I’d ended up either battered and left for dead or terrified out of my wits.
I knew that was ridiculous because I’d filmed so many other days without issue, but it did make me a little nervous.
“Are you all right? You just got tense.”
“It’s nothing,” I lied.
For a moment, I thought he’d let it go, but then he reached into the space between us and slipped his hand into mine. “I’m here if you need.”
“Thanks. Can I….” I trailed off. It was selfish of me to ask for too much when he was already going out of his way to help me.
“What?” he asked, once more not letting it go as I’d hoped he might.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m worrying.”
I huffed a laugh. “I was going to ask if I could hug you, but there’s no need for it. I’ll be fine.”
He gave my hand a little tug. “Come on, then.”
I stared at him in the dark, trying to make out his features. “Really?”
He sighed, and it sounded a little exasperated. “I… I like your hugs. You’re always welcome to hug me.”
My insides lit up. He liked my hugs? That had to mean something, right?
I wriggled closer and laid my arm over his torso. Immediately, the tension began to leach from my body. It wasn’t enough, though, so I laid my head over his heart and melted when he wrapped his other arm around me.
“Is this all right?” I whispered.
“Yeah.” His voice was rough and thick with an emotion I didn’t recognize.
Something brushed over the top of my head and my heart skipped. Had he kissed my hair?
“I’m here for anything you need.” The way he said it—soft and serious—made me think he meant it, and a warm, hopeful feeling unfurled in my chest.
“Anything? That’s a lot to promise,” I teased.
“I know.” His arms tightened around me and another phantom kiss brushed over my hair. “But if it’s within my power to give, I will.”
I turned gooey inside. How was I supposed to resist him when he was so sweet and sincere?
Maybe I didn’t have to.
Maybe, if he’d actually kissed me, and if I hadn’t imagined that flash in his eyes earlier or the warmth in his voice, he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
Feeling daring, I eliminated the last of the space between us. “What if I was to ask for something crazy, like a kiss?”
Quiet descended and settled between us, but it was weighted with expectation. I fought the urge to back away and apologize. I’d never expected to admit my attraction to him, but if there was even the slightest possibility he returned it, then I had to.
At last, he broke the silence. “Do you mean that?”
My breath caught. “I do.”
“Are you sure? You’ve had an emotionally exhausting day, and you’re vulnerable. I’d understand if you just want to feel close to someone, but I don’t kiss people lightly. Kissing means something to me, and I won’t do it if it doesn’t mean something to you too.”
Did that mean there was a chance he would kiss me?
If so, I couldn’t let it slip through my fingers.
“I want to kiss you, and I really hope it means something to you,” I told him. “Because it would mean the world to me.”
Even in the dark, I could sense him studying my face, trying to determine whether I was being truthful. Then his lips curved in a beautiful smile.
“Good,” he said, and then he kissed me.
His lips were soft, and when he exhaled, his breath tasted faintly of mint. I drew back, but only so I could kiss him again. I let my lips rest against his, enjoying the pressure and not trying to take it further.
I’d waited years for this kiss. I was in no rush.
Max’s hand curved around my hip, and he pulled me more tightly into his embrace. I went willingly, giddy when he dipped his head to kiss me again—this time of his own volition.
Somehow, that made it more real.
Not only was I kissing him, but he was kissing me too.
Eventually, our kisses slowed, and I snuggled closer, still using him as a pillow. His heart beat a steady but slightly elevated rhythm, and my own synced with it as I drifted to sleep, praying with every fiber of my being that he wouldn’t regret this in the morning.