Chapter 18 #4
Eli grabs Noah’s shoulder.
“She clarified the date number.”
“Important information.”
I point at both of them.
“There will be boundaries.”
Kane folds his arms, clearly enjoying this.
I continue.
“Maybe a pillow wall.”
Noah nearly collapses.
“A pillow wall?”
“For safety.”
Kane’s eyebrows rise.
“You’re building a barricade?”
“Possibly.”
I turn toward the hallway.
Then glance back over my shoulder.
“Actually, I’m more likely to spoon him.”
Dead silence.
I wink.
And walk away.
The explosion behind me follows me halfway down the hall.
“HAVERHILL.”
“brO.”
“SHE SAID SPOON.”
“Shut up,” Kane says.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
For some reason, I feel sexy.
Which is absurd.
I am wearing a faded Stranger Things T-shirt beneath an enormous Stanford hoodie, red-and-black flannel pajama pants, fuzzy socks, and tortoiseshell glasses thick enough to redirect sunlight.
My hair is loose because I took it down after the movie.
No makeup.
No contacts.
Nothing engineered to impress Kane Haverhill.
And I feel sexy.
Maybe because he looked at me tonight like none of those things needed fixing.
I reach his bedroom.
The door is open.
My bags sit neatly beside the dresser.
Not dumped.
Not tossed onto a chair.
Stacked.
Overnight bag.
Book bag.
Waffle maker.
My three books have even been placed on the nightstand.
I stop.
That stupid warmth returns.
From the living room, Noah’s voice carries down the hallway.
“I love her.”
Eli answers.
“Same.”
“You can’t steal her.”
“I’m not stealing her. I’m appreciating.”
“She called him babe.”
“She also called him Snookums.”
Kane says something too low to hear.
Then Noah again.
“Seriously, though. She’s cool.”
A pause.
Eli’s voice is quieter.
“Don’t screw this up.”
I stop breathing.
Kane doesn’t joke.
“I know.”
Something about those two words hits harder than everything else.
I slip into the bathroom before anybody catches me listening.
By the time I brush my teeth and wipe off what little makeup survived the night, my confidence has dropped by approximately thirty percent.
Maybe forty.
This is real now.
His bedroom.
His bed.
One very large bed.
Naturally.
Athlete housing apparently decided men over six feet require furniture designed for minor royalty.
The mattress looks enormous.
Dark sheets.
Too many pillows.
A thick comforter folded across the bottom.
I stare.
“No.”
The bed does not respond.
“I’m not making this weird.”
Still nothing.
Excellent listener.
I take off Kane’s hoodie and fold it over the chair.
Then climb beneath the covers and immediately move toward the far side.
Not because I’m scared.
Strategic positioning.
I curl onto my side facing the wall and pull the blanket beneath my chin.
There.
Perfectly normal.
A door opens behind me.
Kane laughs.
I turn my head.
He’s standing in the doorway holding a toothbrush.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
His gaze travels over the enormous empty stretch of mattress between us.
“Hannah.”
“What?”
“You’re five-four.”
“Five-three and change.”
“And what? A buck twenty?”
I stare at him.
“Excuse you.”
“Buck twenty-five?”
“Maybe more like one-thirty-five.”
“Still.”
He gestures toward the bed.
“You don’t have to occupy the last four inches like you’re hiding from wildlife.”
“I like sleeping curled up.”
“Against walls?”
“Sometimes.”
His mouth twitches.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
He waits.
I pull the blanket higher.
“A little.”
There.
Truth.
Kane’s teasing disappears.
“I’m going to brush my teeth.”
“Okay.”
He pauses.
“Hannah?”
“Yeah?”
“You can change your mind.”
My fingers loosen around the blanket.
“About staying?”
“Anything.”
There’s no disappointment in his voice.
No pressure.
Just information.
I look at him.
“I know.”
He nods.
Then leaves.
I stare at the empty doorway.
That should make me less nervous.
It does.
It also makes me want him more.
Which seems wildly unfair.
A few minutes later he returns wearing dark plaid pajama pants.
Nothing else.
I forget language.
Broad shoulders.
Bare chest.
A narrow line of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband—
Eyes up.
Immediately.
He catches me.
Naturally.
“I usually sleep in boxers.”
“That information was unnecessary.”
“And shirtless.”
I look pointedly at his chest.
“I gathered half of that.”
His mouth curves.
“I put pants on for you.”
“Heroic.”
“Thought you should know.”
I take a breath.
“You can sleep however you normally sleep.”
That wipes away some of his smile.
“I’m serious. I trust you, Kane.”
His expression stills.
“I’m the one crashing here. You should be comfortable.”
For a second he only looks at me.
Then he walks to the lamp.
“Pants stay.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
That line again.
He turns off the light.
Darkness settles across the room.
Not complete.
Campus lights slip through the blinds in pale lines.
The mattress dips as Kane climbs in.
My pulse immediately speeds up.
He stays on his side.
A ridiculous amount of empty mattress separates us.
This is worse.
I stare at the wall.
One minute.
Maybe two.
Neither of us speaks.
I finally roll over.
Kane is on his back with one arm behind his head.
Looking at the ceiling.
“You’re very far away.”
His head turns.
“So are you.”
“I was here first.”
“Strategic wall position?”
“Exactly.”
Silence.
Then I sigh.
“This feels awkward.”
“I’m trying not to make it awkward.”
“You’re doing that by lying six feet away like we’re in separate zip codes?”
“You mentioned a pillow wall.”
“I was joking.”
“Hard to tell with you.”
I move toward the center.
Not far.
Enough.
“We can cuddle.”
His brows lift in the darkness.
“Cuddle?”
“And spoon.”
“Dangerous progression.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not.”
“You sound amused.”
“I’m trying not to sound excited.”
I laugh softly.
Then turn onto my side with my back toward him.
“There.”
Kane shifts.
Slowly.
His body settles behind mine.
Not touching.
Waiting.
I close the last inch myself.
My back meets his chest.
Warm.
Solid.
His breath leaves slowly near my hair.
One arm slides around my waist.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
His hand rests over my stomach.
Nothing more.
I relax.
Actually relax.
Then his face lowers into my hair.
He breathes in.
“Kane.”
“Almonds.”
A smile pulls at my mouth.
“You’re sniffing me again.”
“I’ve accepted who I am.”
I laugh.
His arm tightens.
I turn inside it.
Big mistake.
Now we’re face-to-face.
Close.
Too close for pretending this is about sleep.
His eyes move over my face.
My glasses.
My mouth.
Back again.
“What?” I whisper.
“I’ve got it bad for you.”
My heart stops doing anything useful.
“Kane.”
“I’m serious.”
His fingers move into my hair, combing slowly through the thick strands near my temple.
“I keep trying not to touch you.”
His thumb grazes my cheek.
“Your hair.”
Another pass.
“Your face.”
His gaze falls.
“Your mouth.”
Heat moves through me.
“Not working?”
“Not even slightly.”
I smile.
“Poor thing.”
His mouth brushes mine.
Barely.
“You think this is funny?”
“A little.”
He kisses me again.
I kiss him back.
And there goes sleep.
His hand slides into my hair, cradling the back of my head as his mouth moves over mine.
Slow at first.
Warm.
Deepening when I catch his lower lip between mine.
Kane makes a quiet sound.
That sound.
I feel it everywhere.
I shift closer.
His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me against the heat of him.
My fingers slide into his hair.
Soft at the ends.
Thicker near his nape.
I tug lightly.
His breath catches.
Interesting.
I do it again.
“Hannah.”
My name sounds completely different in the dark.
I kiss him before he can say anything else.
No careful overthinking.
No deciding whether I’m doing this correctly.
His mouth is warm and familiar now, and I like discovering what makes his breathing change.
A slower kiss.
A tiny pull away.
Back again.
Kane follows every time.
His hand moves along my back beneath my shirt.
Just skin.
Warm palm.
Slow touch.
Nothing rushed.
Still, every nerve wakes.
I inhale sharply against his mouth.
He stops.
Immediately.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
His hand stays exactly where it is.
“Sure?”
I nod.
Then realize he can barely see me.
“Yes.”
He kisses my forehead.
That nearly undoes me more than everything else.