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I roll my lips together and reach for the blanket before tugging it up my body and nestling it beneath my chin.

My lashes flutter as I wait for her to finish freaking out, my patience everlasting when it comes to this woman.

Finally, she pulls the pillow from her face and rests it on her lap. Eyes trained forward, she says, “You could have punched me for that.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I just tried to touch you without your consent.”

The frustrated bewilderment in the words is reassuring in a way. It’s a reminder that she isn’t the type of person to take anything like this lightly or do something that I’m not okay with. I don’t need the reminder, but knowing it’s there is comforting.

“Well, you didn’t. And you hadn’t even actually touched me anywhere that I hadn’t touched you earlier. You’re a good person, Bryce. Even when you have dirty dreams.”

“I wasn’t having a dirty dream,” she denies gruffly.

“No?”

“No.”

“If you say so.”

“Daisy,” she scolds.

The deep, chastising sound of her voice does nothing but spark the desire that’s been lying dormant since she got off my lap. If anyone should be scolding themselves for sexual behaviour, it should be me based solely off my dirty thoughts.

“You know, considering we’re supposed to be in a relationship, it would be really bad if someone learned that we haven’t even kissed before,” I ramble, letting my tongue run free.

Excitement rams into me head-on.

God, I’m pushing my limits here. This is not what I should be encouraging. Especially after all that’s happened since we got to Bryce’s parents’ house.

Bryce hesitates for a beat, but no immediate refusal comes. “How would they find that out?”

“It could come up in conversation and slip out.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

She’s looking down at me with those cool blue eyes that I wish I could see more clearly. At the same time, maybe the darkness is a blessing. It gives us the opportunity to hide some of ourselves. A reassurance that this isn’t the time for us to expose our souls to one another or turn this into anything it doesn’t need to be.

“Practice. If you’re feeling up to it,” I murmur.

“That’s all it’ll be?”

The lie feels as forced as it does wrong. “That’s all.”

I don’t know if I believe what I’m saying. It doesn’t matter, though. Not when I’m scorching hot and fidgeting with the need to maul her.

“I have to brush my teeth first.”

Before I can offer to help her out of bed, she’s up and swaying into the ensuite. I take it as a good sign that she’s regained enough of her strength to walk on her own. Maybe we’ve been here longer than I thought.

I’m a mess of nerves and sore, sensitive nipples by the time she stumbles back to the bed and sits beside me. Replicating my position from when she slept on my lap, she keeps her back propped against the headboard and legs pressed together.

“Are you okay? Maybe you should sleep some more,” I offer, pushing myself up and out from beneath the blanket, too hot for it now.

Bryce doesn’t answer with words. She reaches out and palms my cheek, guiding me toward her. I move onto my knees and shuffle closer until I’m no more than a pinky’s length away, and I can smell the mint toothpaste on her breath.

“Ready?” I ask.