Page 70

“I already cleaned you up,” I remind her. I’d found a clean cloth in the bathroom and wiped her down before getting back in the bed to hold her close. “You’re trying to escape.”

“This is my house, how can I escape?” But there’s an edge to her voice and she relents, admitting, “I was just giving you some space.”

“What gives you the impression that I want space?” My arm is tight around her waist, keeping her against my body. My cock twitches, the want building again, but it’s not sex, it’s just her. “I mean, the full-sized bed is a little tight, but it just makes it easier to cuddle.”

She turns. It’s not graceful. The bed really is too small for my body alone, much less hers. I keep my hand on her hip, holding onto her until she faces me. “You’re saying you want to stay and cuddle.”

I’d fucking move in if she’d let me.

“You think I’m not a cuddler?”

She rolls her eyes. “I think you’re too lazy to move.”

“You want me to leave?” The concept dawns on me. God, how much brain fog do I have? “You’re kicking me out?”

She frowns, eyes searching mine, then sighs. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“What are you talking about, T?”

“Every man I’ve ever had sex with has made it perfectly clear that I’m not invited to hang out.”

“Even when it’s at your house?”

“No one ever comes to my house. I’m always the one that goes to theirs,” she says.

I know that this goes all the way back to that first time with that bastard Will Holt, who I plan on eviscerating in the near future.

She continues, “That’s why I’m not exactly sure what to do here.”

“I’m not leaving.” I reach out and trace the line of her jaw. “And you’re not either. We’re going to fucking cuddle. And do that other thing couples do.”

Her eyebrows rise. “What thing?”

“Pillow talk, or whatever.”

“You want to cuddle and talk?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no to round two when my cock comes back from the dead, but yeah. I missed you over the break. I thought about you every day. I hated the way we left things and I wasn’t able to talk to you.” I thrust my hand in my hair. “Nomatter how big of a house my father builds, it still feels too small.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks tentatively. “Because if you don’t that’s okay.” I’m not sure why she’s so hesitant, until it hits me. The last time she asked about my family I told her it was none of her business. Jesus, I’m an asshole.

“It’s hard for me to talk about them,” I admit. “And accusing you of ulterior motives was a dick move. I’m sorry.”

“I know. We were both a little defensive that day.”

Fuck, this girl. She’s too good for me.

“Do you know who my father is?” I ask.

“I didn’t,” she admits, “not until we argued. I had some time to kill in the airport on the way home and went on a deep dive.”

“So you know he’s the head pastor of the megachurch, Kingdom.”

“I watched a few of his sermons. He seems…” she searches for the right word, “...charismatic. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I see the resemblance. In looks and presence.”

I grimace. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

“Sorry,” she says, with the smallest smirk. “He’s good at his job. I’m not even religious and I got a little caught up in his talk. I can see why he’s popular. So what’s the issue? Does he disapprove of your lifestyle?” Her fingers trace over a tattoo on my chest. “All the ink and tattoos? The women?”