Chapter 22
My body shifted slightly as I inhaled a deep breath, and my senses were immediately filled with the faint scent of crisp mountain air and earthy undertones.
When my eyes fluttered open and squinted at the morning sun streaming through my window, my head was tucked under Blake’s chin, resting on his chest. His arm was wrapped around me, holding me steady above his heartbeat.
I moved again, careful not to wake him as I shifted to the crook of his arm, my heart full of quiet awe.
Warmth seeped from his skin into mine as I tilted my head back, studying his peaceful, sleeping form—broad chest rising and falling, lips slightly parted, dark lashes sweeping his cheeks, wavy hair deliciously rumpled. My chest tightened.
God, he was ridiculously handsome.
As I continued to stare at him, I shifted my leg to stretch, but my sore hips immediately protested. A flush crawled up my neck. Jesus. He did a damn number on me last night, but in the best way possible.
I bit my lip, heat rising in my chest as images flooded in. The wildness in his gaze, the way he’d fought and then surrendered to us after months of tension. Every frenzied kiss, every desirous shiver, every desperate touch, every heated sound replayed.
I didn’t know how Blake was going to feel when he woke up, but I hoped he wouldn’t feel awkward or wall himself off.
Because what happened wasn’t a mistake. It seemed almost inevitable.
I didn’t regret it the first time, and I definitely didn’t regret it now.
And despite knowing we crossed a line that came with potential consequences, I didn’t want it to end here.
What I wanted out of it, I couldn’t say for sure. I just knew there was something here worth exploring.
He inhaled a slow, deep breath, and the arm around me tightened as he shifted to his side, pulling me closer.
My head tucked into the crook of his neck as his free hand brushed my cheek and slid softly into my hair, holding me in place.
The tenderness of it made a warmth bloom in my chest. Then, he dipped his head and brushed his lips against my forehead, and my heart stuttered.
I pulled back just enough to tilt my head to look at him, and his blue eyes met mine. “Morning,” I whispered.
“Morning,” he said, his voice carrying that sexy rasp from sleep when he spoke.
“Sleep okay?”
“Yeah,” he replied with a gentle nod.
He loosened his hold, raising his arms above his head to stretch the sleep from his body—the movement made every muscle in his broad chest and stomach ripple, and I couldn’t help but rake my eyes over every visible inch of him. He had no right to look so damn good.
“You’re staring.”
I huffed out a laugh, my cheeks heating slightly from him calling me out. “Can you blame me?”
Blake turned his head, lips curling into a sleepy smile that made his dimples peek out.
Then his eyes scanned over me. I had the blanket covering my chest, one leg half-out, and my hair likely a tangled mess on the pillow.
I saw something in his eyes—maybe appreciation—but his expression grew more serious when he looked at me again.
He cleared his throat. “About last night…”
Those words were like a bucket of ice water, abruptly shattering the moment.
“Don’t,” I said before letting out a breath and sitting up. “Don’t say it.”
I slipped out of bed, tugging the blanket with me and leaving him with the sheet. “Haley…” I didn’t respond as I pulled on my underwear, grabbed an oversized T-shirt from my drawer, and slipped it on before dropping the blanket. “Haley,” he said again, more sternly.
I turned to face him, reaching back to untuck my hair from the shirt. “Do you regret it?” I assumed that was part of whatever he was thinking.
“No.” He propped himself up on one arm, his eyes intent on mine. “No. I don’t.”
I stilled, heartbeat skittering. “Oh.” I truly hadn’t expected that, nor the faint hope it stirred inside me.
“This isn’t about regret. There’s no regret here. But it’s…” His voice trailed off, searching for the right words. “It’s…complicated. We both know that.”
“I know it is. But that doesn’t mean that we have to write it off just because there might be a few hurdles.”
“I’m glad you see the wrath of your brother as just a mere hurdle,” he quipped.
At least he was attempting to make light of it. That was a good sign. Right? “Please,” I scoffed. “I stand by what I said that first time: Wes isn’t going to do shit to you.”
He gave me a look. “It’s not about him doing something to me. And it’s not just about him.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, anxiety curdling under my skin as I ran my fingers through my hair.
“Look, I know there are outside factors to consider. But I don’t want to pretend like it didn’t happen because of them.
Because it did happen. We can’t let potential complications decide how we handle this—especially when we don’t even know if there’s really anything to handle yet. ”
“So, what? We just continue like this”—he gestured between us—“and hope no one finds out?”
“No,” I replied. “I’m not saying we should just start secretly fucking all the time.” Although—no, focus. “I’m just saying maybe we should give ourselves the chance to figure this out, but on our own, without bringing anything or anyone else into it. Just us. No one else. Not yet.”
“By doing what, exactly?”
“By doing exactly what we’ve been doing—except not fighting whatever this is. Just see what happens. Because after last night, you can’t honestly look me in the eyes and tell me there isn’t something between us, Blake.”
He blew out a breath. “Haley, I meant what I said last night about the way you make me feel, but I–” He cut himself off, scrubbing a hand down his face, and when he looked at me again, something akin to affliction flickered in his eyes. “I don’t want you to expect–”
“I’m not expecting anything,” I interrupted. “I’m merely suggesting that we stop thinking about things like work and Wes. What this is, nobody has to understand but you and me. Not yet. Not before we really know ourselves.”
He held my stare for a moment, and I could see his hesitancy. “By doing exactly what we have been,” he echoed.
“Yes. Except…maybe when we hang out outside of work…it can be somewhere other than the bar.”
“Other than the bar,” he repeated. “Like here…or my place. Alone.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
The corner of his mouth lifted just slightly. “Wouldn’t that just be feeding into the temptation?”
I shifted onto my hands and knees and crawled forward, watching the way his gaze heated as I brought my face directly in front of his. “Isn’t feeding into the temptation part of us trying to figure this out?”
He leaned in, his lips feathering over mine. His eyes shimmered with an unspoken conflict—a war between wanting and warning. Whether his hesitation was about my brother, work, or something deeper, I couldn’t tell.
His breath came out shaky. “We’ll see what happens. But I…Haley, I can’t promise you anything…”
The vulnerability in his voice worked its way under my skin. It stung, but it was honest.
“I’m not asking you to promise me anything. I’m just asking for us to stop fighting so hard against whatever this is.”