Chapter Sixteen
DREW
Iwasn’t sure if I wanted to hug Glamma or kill her for interrupting us.
“Ellie! Drew! So glad you’re here!” She called up from downstairs. “I have Ellie’s luggage! We forgot to drop it off earlier so I’m just going to leave it here by the door in case she needs something. Byeee!”
The front door slammed like she’d robbed a bank, and her getaway car peeled out of the driveway before either of us could yell at her.
The moment between Ellie and me had passed. My body, however, was very much still in the moment. I tugged my t-shirt down, hoping to hide the evidence of my arousal.
How was I going to make it through the night with her here, in my house, in my clothes?
By sleeping on the floor, I reminded myself. Far away from the temptation of Ellie’s curves, only made more so by seeing her in my clothes. I had no idea that it would affect me so much or hit me so hard.
Then temptation herself waltzed right past me into the bedroom and stopped short when she saw the blanket and pillow I’d put on the floor while she’d been getting changed. She blinked, then shrugged and got down on her hands on knees to crawl beneath the covers like she was camping.
The sight instantly sent my brain into dark, delicious places.
She gave me a sweet wave, her smile so dazzling I was sure she could make men give up their soul. “Good night.”
“What the hell are you doing?” My voice cracked, which wasn’t ideal for the whole alpha-male thing.
She frowned. “Um. I thought it was obvious. Sleeping. Thanks for the pillow and blankets.”
“Ellie, those are for me.”
She laughed, snuggling down like she was at the Ritz. “Don’t be absurd. I’m not taking your bed.”
“Get in the bed, Ellie.”
“I’m fine right here.” She turned away from me and wiggled her butt like she was getting comfy.
I had to clench my hands to stop from running them over her lush backside.
My core temperature rose from her stubbornness and sanity waved goodbye as my imagination filled in all the ways that wiggle could ruin me.
Fuuuuuuck.
“Get. In. The. Bed.”
She peeked at me over her shoulder, her eyes dancing. “Or what?”
Or I kiss you until neither of us remember our names and worship your body until you are delirious with desire.
Instead, I groaned and dragged a hand over my face. “Please.”
Ellie sighed like I was the one being difficult. “Fine. I’ll get in the bed. Even if it’s so you don’t stand there all night griping at me.” She clambered to her feet, taking the pillow and blanket with her. “Happy now, growly Gus?”
I glared.
She ignored me, marched to the other side of the bed and plopped down. “See? There’s plenty of room. We won’t even have to touch.”
“It’s not about touching—”
She raised an eyebrow clearly expressing her disbelief. “Here. I’ll build a pillow wall to protect your virtue.”
It wasn’t my virtue I wanted to protect.
Ellie stacked the pillows with the concentration of a woman building a war fortress. “This one’s the moat. This one’s the guard tower. And this one’s the drawbridge.”
I stared at her, my lips twitching. “This is crazy.”
“You say crazy, I say inspired.” She pointed at the empty half of the bed.
“Now get in. If you don’t, I’ll lie awake all night, tormented by guilt, and then tomorrow I’ll be a zombie at work.
And you’ll regret it because I can’t function and you will clearly regret your choices, want to build a time machine like Doc in Back to The Future to go—“
“Ellie.”
“Yes?” The way she looked at me—half-hopeful, half defiant, completely endearing—made resistance impossible.
I couldn’t help smiling to soften my words.“Shut up. I’ll get in the bed.”
Her triumphant grin should have annoyed me, but damn it, it made me want to kiss her.
How was I going to get through the night?
I slid into bed, lying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. Every sound seemed amplified—the rustle of the sheets, the hitch of her breath, the faint creak outside as the wind shifted. It felt wrong to have her on the opposite side of the bed and not curled up in my arms.
Outside my windows, Ruby River was quiet except for the familiar background of small-town quirks: Mr. Reynold’s rooster crowing when the moon came up, the neighbor’s dog yapping at shadows, and the clop clop clop of Old Farmer Ted and his horse Rhodie making their nightly rounds through the streets.
Ellie shifted, tossed, and turned before finally letting out a huff and burying her face into the pillow.
“You okay?” I asked.
Her silence worried me.
Then, “Yes. No. I’m thinking about tomorrow.”
I moved closer to our pillow wall. “Yeah?”
“My family is … a bit much.”
“A tad,” I agreed, and her low chuckle told me I accomplished what I wanted, to distract her, even if it was only for a second or two.
“When I was a little, I dreamed of not just my wedding, but my sister’s.
How fun it would be to plan and help each other get ready.
Curling each other’s hair, crying happy tears.
Instead, she’ll probably ask me to steam her dress while she criticizes mine.
” Her voice cracked. “Is it weird I’m grieving what could’ve been? ”
The hurt and longing in her words ripped at my heart. “Not at all.”
She was quiet for a beat.
I slid my hand onto the pillow wall. For a long second, nothing happened. Then her smaller hand reached across, clasping mine. She held it tight, squeezing hard, like I was her anchor in an unfriendly port.
After a while, her grip loosened, her breathing slowed, and soft snores filled the room.
I didn’t let go. Not even as sleep crept up on me.
My last thought was how much I wanted to do this every night—her hand in mine, her laugh in my ear, her stubbornness filling my bed.