Page 49 of Only Between Us

An injury that almost killed me. Witnessing my ex’s affair on what had already been the worst day of my life. If I’d been made to feel that one-two punch by a higher force on purpose, it’s a cruelty I wouldn’t want explained.

“I believe in it. My whole life has felt like aright place, right time.” She waits for me to argue, but what can I say to that? If it’s something she needs to believe, who am I to talk her out of it? “You know, my dad would go nuts if he could see this. He loved you on the Rebels. And the Huskies. And look at me now, snuggling up in bed with Brooks Attwood.”

Something about that hits just the right way. I like the idea of her dad liking me.

But that’s weird, and I shove the thought away.

“Tell me this isn’t how you’ve been snuggled in the past. There’s a whole two feet between us.” She laughs, and the sound is so pretty, just like the rest of her. “That wasn’t rhetorical, Pippen. People need to know.”

“Who are people?”

I lift up on an elbow and glare down at her. “Me. I’m people. Do I or do I not have to right a colossal wrong?”

She’s curled up on her side now, laughing so hard at my outrage that the mattress shudders with her. It’s never been quite this light between us. The practical guy in me knows how perfect this is. That we’re far more likely to keep pulling off the act if we like each other as people.

The delusional part of me? He feels howperfectthis is. Maybeshe’s here for practical reasons, but I haven’t had pillow talk with a woman in years—hell, I haven’t slept next to a woman in years.

I ache for this—always have. The sleepy conversations until the crack of dawn, the secret sharing. I’d say my ex robbed me of that, but it wasn’t like this with us. The only words we ever exchanged in this position were sleepy goodnights.

And here’s Siena, a woman I barely know, giving me that soft comfort. And it feels so… effortless.

“Rest easy, Brooks Attwood. I have indeed been properly snuggled.”

“I might hate that answer more.” I flop onto my back. “I think I’ll start a Thomas Ivers troll account. Make fun of his completion percentage and taunt him with pictures of you in nothing but that T-shirt.”

She winces. “Please don’t do that. This is his shirt.”

I sit up like I’ve just been sucker punched in the gut. I don’t know where I get off being so goddamn possessive of this woman, but she’s gotta be fucking kidding me.

I rub my face with both hands. “What are you wearing underneath it?”

“Why? You’re gonna to rip it off my body, Attwood?”

Her amusement dies the second I look over and she sees exactly how fucking close I am to ripping it off her body. If she so much as gave me a hint that she wanted me to touch her…

We may be playing pretend, but there’s nothing fake about the way my body wants her.

Siena inhales a slow breath. I know she was rattled earlier, rubbing my leg, but she looks like she’s hurting now, watching me hover over her. Sitting so close we’re almost touching.

“We said no fucking,” she whispers, swallowing hard. Definitely rattled. I love it.

“That was your rule, Pip. Not mine.” I tug at the sleeve of her shirt.

“Is this fun for you? Winding me up?”

“Yeah, it is. I have a feeling you don’t let many people see you squirm. It’s doing wonders for my ego.”

That hits a nerve. Her eyes flare with something a little ruthless, and I know in an instant she’s going to make me pay for this.

“You know, that was a really good question.”

“What was?”

Siena releases a soft sigh, just short of a whimper. “WhatamI wearing under this shirt?”

She flips onto her back, shoves the comforter down to her waist, and my body clenches, lungs failing in anticipation of whatever torture I know she’s about to inflict. Her fingers smooth over her body, her stomach, reach under the covers.

“Panties.” She snaps the elastic band. The comforter ripples as her hands move inward.