Chapter Twenty-Three Spock
I draw the covers back and guide Chloe under them, keeping one hand at her waist until she settles against the pillows.
Her movements are slow and unsteady, her body loose.
A possessive satisfaction rolls through me at the sight of her in my bed, her hair tangled around her face and her skin still flushed from what we’ve shared.
She belongs here.
The thought comes fast and certain. I don’t question it, and I don’t try to reason my way around it. It feels too right to be anything but the truth.
I climb into bed beside her and pull the covers over us. The second I open my arm, Chloe shifts toward me as if she’s coming home. I draw her against my chest, fitting her body along mine. She rests her cheek over my heart and places one hand flat against my chest.
Having her here with me settles something inside me. This feels familiar, even though it shouldn’t.
I curl one hand around her hip, holding her close. With the other, I cover the hand resting over my heart, trapping it beneath my palm. Her fingers twitch against my skin before relaxing.
For several minutes, neither of us speaks. The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and our breathing slowing. I stare at the ceiling while my thumb moves back and forth over her hip.
“We should probably talk,” Chloe murmurs.
The words are hesitant and softened by exhaustion.
My body tenses, although I can already tell she’s half asleep. “About what?”
“About this.” Her fingers shift beneath mine. “About how it might change things.”
She’s wrong. There is no question that this changes everything.
At least as far as I’m concerned. But this isn’t the time to tell her that.
Chloe will need to be fully awake when we have that conversation.
She’ll need time to think through every angle, consider every possible complication, and build whatever defenses she thinks will protect her.
Then I’ll tear every one of them down. I won’t push her or make demands. But I will prove to her that we belong together and that she can trust me with everything she is.
I tilt my head and press my lips to her forehead. “We’ll have time to discuss everything in the morning.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
The word drifts into silence. Within moments, her breathing deepens, and her body grows heavier against mine. She’s asleep.
I remain awake, my hand still covering hers. The weight of her beside me doesn’t feel strange. Instead, it feels complete.
She’s right. Things between us will change after tonight because I don’t want this to be a one-off.
I won’t let her feel regret or pretend it didn't mean anything, because it means everything.
I want her in my bed tomorrow night. And the night after that.
I need her to be next to me when I fall asleep, and I need to wake up with her wrapped around me in the morning.
Taking in a deep breath, I let the scent of sex and her burrow into my lungs. Oh yeah, this is what I want.
I want arguments, laughter, quiet mornings, and hard days. I want every complicated, stubborn, beautiful part of her life tangled with mine.
As far as I’m concerned, this is how I intend to spend the rest of my life.
I fall asleep feeling at peace and happier than I’ve ever been.
I wake before Chloe.
For a few seconds, I don’t move. I lie still beneath the sheets, staring at the woman curled against me while memories of last night slide through my mind.
Her cheek still rests against my chest, but she’s shifted so her arm drapes across my stomach.
She’s almost on top of me, her legs now tangled with mine.
There isn’t an inch of space between us.
A perfect way to start the day.
Morning light filters through the narrow gap in the curtains, casting a pale stripe across her face. Her hair is a wild mess around her shoulders, and her lips are slightly parted as she breathes. She looks soft and peaceful. She’s positively stunning, even with her smudged makeup.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I trace every detail, committing it to memory. The sweep of her lashes. The faint crease between her brows. The way her fingers curl against my side as if she’s holding on to me.
She begins to stir, her nose wrinkling before her eyes slowly open. Confusion flickers across her face, followed by recognition. Then she notices me watching her.
A flush creeps into her cheeks. “How long have you been staring at me?”
“Not long enough.”
“That isn’t an answer.” She lifts her head and wipes at the corner of her mouth. “Did I drool on you?”
A chuckle rumbles from my chest. “No.”
“You hesitated.”
“I didn’t.”
Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’d tell me if I did, right?”
“Absolutely.” I slide my hand along her back. “But you didn’t.”
She seems satisfied with that answer. Pushing onto her back, she stretches beneath the covers, arms reaching over her head as she arches her body. My gaze follows every movement, lingering on the graceful curve of her neck and the way the sheet slips lower.
Her eyes catch mine.
“Really?” she asks.
“I’m not going to apologize for looking.”
Her lips twitch. “I suppose it would be hypocritical of me to complain after last night.”
“Very.”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile remains. Then her gaze drifts toward the floor, where her dress lies in a crumpled heap. The smile disappears, replaced by a grimace.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighs. “I’ve never done the walk of shame before.”
My chest tightens so fast it almost hurts. My hand stills against her skin.
“You’re ashamed of what we did?”
Chloe’s head whips toward me. She stares for half a second before laughing. “No. God, Spock. That isn’t what I meant.”
The pressure in my chest eases, but not completely. “Then what did you mean?”
“I mean I’m going to have to walk through the clubhouse wearing the same dress I wore last night.” She points toward the discarded garment. “A very noticeable dress, by the way. Every person in that common room will know exactly where I spent the night and what we were doing.”
I chuckle. “I can guarantee you that they all know and that they did the same thing. They won’t judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She smirks. “I know, but still. I wish I had thought to bring a change of clothes. Now, I’m going to stroll into that room looking like I’ve been thoroughly—”
“Careful,” I warn, fighting a grin.
“—compromised,” she finishes primly. “And the entire Demon Dawgs clubhouse is going to turn the spotlight on me.”
I study her for another moment, then lean over and press a kiss to her forehead.
“Get in the shower.”
She blinks at me. “That doesn’t solve my clothing problem.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because I have you covered.”
Suspicion enters her expression. “What does that mean?”
“It means you should trust me.”
Chloe studies my face, clearly debating whether that would be wise. Finally, she pushes the covers aside and sits up.
“Walking through the clubhouse wearing one of your shirts isn’t the solution you think it is.”
I laugh as she stalks toward the bathroom. “You have no faith in me.”
She glances over her shoulder. “I have more faith in you than I ever thought I could.”
I watch every step, enjoying the view until she disappears through the doorway.
Then I reach for my phone.
“Alisa, I need some clothes for Chloe.”
A few minutes later, there is a knock on the door.
I shrug on the jeans I wore the previous day before opening the door.
On the other side, I find a Kutte Bunny.
She grins at me as she hands me a stack of clothes.
Jeans on the bottom, a T-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes with socks and a pair of underwear stuffed inside.
I thank her before closing the door. Taking my haul into the bathroom, I place the clothes on the counter.
Then I watch Chloe. She doesn’t notice me. Or at least I don’t think she does.
“Instead of standing and watching, you could come in here and wash my back.”
“That’s just what I was thinking,” I say, stripping off my jeans.