Not Gonna Happen
Maddox
I woke up smiling. That alone should've been enough to set off alarms.
Instead, the smile lingered. I could feel it – refusing to go away – as I took in the quiet room.
Pale blue walls. White trim. Solid antique furniture. A few framed paintings of old lighthouses.
None of it mattered.
The reason I was smiling was curled up against me.
Delaney.
I wasn't used to waking up with someone, not like this – ridiculously happy and content to stay right where I was.
She was tucked against me, warm and soft, with her head resting against my chest like it belonged there from the start.
Maybe it had. I recalled the first time I'd seen her – outside on that Chicago sidewalk, dragging a yellow suitcase and holding onto that potted flower like it mattered.
She'd looked exhausted, defiant, and just a little wild. Even then, I'd known she was different. She wasn't the kind of wild that would try to shock me and call it bold, but the kind that would drag a beat-up suitcase twenty blocks while refusing to abandon the flower.
It was stubborn and sweet – and just a little reckless.
When I was with her, everything felt simpler.
Better.
Nicer.
And now, with her lying naked in my arms, I mentally added something new to the list.
Right.
She felt right in my arms. In my bed. In my life. And for the first time in, well, forever, I caught myself wanting more.
More of what, I wasn't ready to name. But what I did know was this – I didn't like the idea of letting her go.
In my arms, Delaney stirred, her cheek brushing my chest as she shifted, her breathing slow and even. I let out a slow breath of my own, careful not to move, because I didn't want to wake her.
I didn't know what time it was, but the sunlight filtering through shades suggested it was mid-morning, maybe slightly later. Normally, I was up at the crack of dawn.
Not today.
Instead, I'd fallen asleep near dawn and slept several hours later than normal.
Delaney and I had been busy most of the night – and not only with sex. We'd spent hours talking in the dark – about our families, our time in Chicago, and the things we'd been doing on our own for the past few months.
The way it sounded, both of us had thrown ourselves into work – her with the writing and me with the kind of projects that didn't leave room for anything else.
Sometime between midnight and sunrise, I'd even told her the full story about what had happened with her car.
At a sudden realization, another smile tugged at my lips. Delaney had told me precisely nothing about her T-shirt, which of course made me more curious than ever. What, exactly, was so bad about it?
Right now, the shirt was somewhere on the floor. I could slip out of bed and check it out, but that would involve letting go of Delaney.
Uh, yeah. Not gonna happen.
Instead, I tightened my arm just a fraction. And when she gave a contented little sigh, something squeezed in my chest.
Yeah, I could definitely get used to this.
My eyelids were just starting to drift shut when the sound of knocking made me tense.
Fuck.
It wasn't coming from my bedroom door.
The way it sounded, it was coming from the door to Delaney's bedroom.
I looked toward the connecting bathroom. The door on my side was open, but from this angle, I couldn't tell whether the bathroom door on Delaney's side was open or shut. If it was open, and someone barged into Delaney's bedroom, they'd get a good eyeful if they wandered too far.
Damn it.
Whoever it was, maybe they'd go away.
They didn't.
And it didn't take a genius to know who it was.
Not Ryder, that's for sure.
When the knock sounded again, Delaney shifted in my arms. In a sleepy voice, she murmured, "Whatever you're selling, we don't want any."
Yeah, no kidding.
But then, she suddenly bolted upright and turned to look toward the sound. She gave a little groan. "Oh, no. That must be Tessa."