PromiseThreat?
Delaney
Prove it. Those whispered words made my breath hitch as I eyed the bathroom door.
I was tucked under the covers, but not remotely sleepy. On the nightstand, the little lamp was turned to its lowest setting – so low, it was barely a nightlight.
And yet, I could still make out the pale yellow walls, the romantic four-poster bed, and the colorful quilt that smelled like sunshine and roses.
The room was lovely and peaceful, but I knew I'd never be able to sleep – not with Maddox sleeping barely twenty feet away.
Except he wasn't sleeping.
Just like me.
I still hadn't replied when he whispered, "Now I can hear you breathing."
Yikes. He probably could, because suddenly, breathing had become a lot more complicated than it used to be.
I sat up in bed. "You think I'm bluffing."
"Maybe." But then he paused. "Or maybe not."
I bit my lip. Suddenly, I was wishing I'd packed something just a little nicer to sleep in. A cute camisole. A clingy tank top. Anything.
Instead, I was wearing an oversized black T-shirt emblazoned with four words. Monsters Need Love, too.
Good Lord.
When I'd purchased it ages ago, I'd thought it was hilarious.
Now I wasn't so sure. What if he thought I meant him?
I glanced toward my biggest suitcase. Damn it. If I'd wanted to change nightshirts, I should've done it sooner. Then again, it's not like I had anything better.
I mean, there was always the other sleeping shirt – the one with Bigfoot sporting a massively comical erection through his shorts.
No.
Definitely not.
As the silence lingered, I recalled how all of this had started – with my claim that I had ways of making him talk.
I'd meant it, too.
Already, I could see myself climbing on top of him and smothering him with kisses until he told me what he knew. Or refusing to kiss him until he confessed everything he was hiding. Or nibbling at his ear while demanding answers.
But that wasn't even the point.
Forget the mystery of the car. What I really wanted was to be close to him, preferably naked.
It was all I could think about. And if I were being totally honest, my questions about the car had been mostly an excuse – something to say to break the ice.
He probably knew it, too.
Because let's be logical. There was nothing to stop me from asking about the car over breakfast.
But breakfast was hours away, and the thing I truly wanted didn't exactly go with eggs and bacon – or a sister who totally disapproved.
Softly, I asked, "Are you sleepy?"
"Nope."
"Me neither." I leaned back against the headboard. "So…what are you wearing?"
"Boxers."
In my mind, I could practically see him, lying there half-naked, with his bare chest peeking out from under the covers. My pulse quickened. "And…nothing else?"
"Not at the moment." A smile crept into his voice. "But I do have a suitcase."
And just like that, the image changed, covering his chest with something a lot less intriguing – like a T-shirt, or heaven forbid, a thick sweatshirt that revealed absolutely nothing.
In a near panic, I whispered, "Don't you dare."
With a hint of sin, he asked, "Don't I dare what?"
My pulse was racing now. "Don't you dare get changed."
"And what are you wearing?"
I almost groaned. "Don't ask."
"Hmm…" He sounded intrigued. "Is that a good don't ask? Or a bad don't ask?"
"Bad. Really bad."
"So…a clown suit?"
I stifled a laugh. "No."
"Scuba gear."
"No."
"Huh." He paused. "Then, I've gotta be honest. I'm stumped."
I glanced down. "It's just a T-shirt."
"Just a T-shirt?"
My face warmed. "Well…and panties, too. Obviously."
"Yeah? What color?"
I smiled. "Pink, actually."
"Nice." He sounded like he meant it.
"So…what color are your boxers?"
"Basic black."
I could totally envision them, along with the hard line of his stomach and the bare expanse of his chest. My sheets, which had felt crisp and cool just a moment ago, suddenly felt warm against my bare legs. Softly, I whispered, "Nice."
He said nothing.
Again, I glanced down at my shirt. Monsters Need Love, too. "But about my T-shirt…I'm just worried you'll take it personally."
He was silent for a long moment before saying, "Personally, huh?"
"Well…" I smiled. "I did say I'd make you talk, remember?"
"I remember."
My breath hitched. "Maybe I should do that now."
He paused, and I swear, I could hear his smile. "Just maybe?"
Actually, it was more than maybe.
By now, I was desperate to be close to him, and I wasn't going to let a silly shirt derail me now. I eased out of the covers and silently padded my way toward the bathroom door. I took a deep breath and slowly pulled it open, wincing when it gave a tiny creak.
I froze. Was I really doing this?
Yes. Definitely.
If I didn't, I'd wake up tomorrow totally regretting it.
Carefully, I started moving through the bathroom. As I tiptoed past the bathtub, I whispered into the phone, "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Someone's at the door."
He went quiet as if listening. "Who?"
"Me." And with that, I twisted the knob to his bedroom and plunged into the darkness, making out only the faintest outline of a double bed and a dark figure sitting up in the middle. Maddox.
I suddenly felt warm and trembly all over. But there was no way I was turning back.
And besides, if I stopped now, I'd probably chicken out.
I rushed forward and dove onto the bed – not quite tackling him, but close enough. The mattress bounced, and I lost my balance, nearly toppling off the side before Maddox caught my arm and pulled me back from the brink.
As I fell into him for real, I tried not to laugh as I whispered, "You know, that worked a lot better in my imagination."