Page 53 of Between Desire and Denial

“So can I, Darling D,” I singsonged.

“But you don’t,” he clarified as he started folding the sheets down. “I do. And if you’re ready for bed, you come get me.”

“For what?” I said as I let him fiddle with the blankets. He seemed to think fluffing my pillow a certain way was helpful to me. I didn’t correct him. The man was attentive if nothing else.

And right then, it occurred to me that every night this week, he had actually stopped working when I told him I would be retiring to our room. I’d say, “You don’t have to come to bed with me,” but he’d still come anyway.

He frowned at me. “You haven’t talked to me at all today. Normally, we lie down and you divulge something.”

“Oh, so you’re coming to bed for information?”

“How am I supposed to learn about the mother of my future children otherwise?”

“Oh, don’t start with that.” I waved him off. “And if you wanted to know about yourfriend, you could ask. I’d have an opportunity to tell you before bedtime if you weren’t on the phone all day.” The reply flew out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“I’m not getting the sweet honey today. I’m getting Olive with bite, I see.” He looked me up and down, and I took another step back.

We’d gotten along fine this week. I shouldn’t have any complaints. Yet, he’d been extremely nice, too nice, like he didn’t want to jump my bones with the same fervor in which I wanted him. Still, it shouldn’t have been his concern. I knew that. I rubbed at my temples because my head was starting to hurt. “I’ve just had a long day.”

“Your head still hurt? How bad do these migraines get? You said you asked your doctor about them.”

“I get visual auras sometimes. But I’m good about it. Nothing to worry about, really, according to the doc as long as…” Here he was getting information out of me.

“As long as what?” He smirked.

“Nothing.”

“Come on. Tell me,” he said softly.

“It’s just stress. The doctors keep saying it may be hormonal and that maybe switching my birth control could help but—"

“They think it’s your medication?” He sounded shocked. “Why are you on it then?”

“It’s not. It’s fine.” I waved it off. “I get them when I’m working a lot, and I was doing a ton with my thesis. You get it. You worked most of the day too.”

He nodded after rearranging the pillow one last time, then he turned to face me head-on and took a step toward me. “I have.” He motioned for me to get in the bed, then he pulled the sheets up close to my chin and tucked the blankets around me like I was a child he was taking care of.

“What are you doing?”

“Tucking you in tight.”

“Don’t want the bed bugs to bite?”

“With what you’re wearing, Olive,Ijust may bite.” A smile slipped. At least he had noticed and wasn’t as immune to me as I’d thought. “You’re blushing.” He dragged a finger across my cheek. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“We’re technically friends, right? Complete friend zone and all?”

“I’m regretting that idea more and more every day.” He sighed and tucked in my left side a little tighter.

“It’s the right idea. I’m fresh out of my relationship with Rufford, who made me incapable of trusting anyone. And I’m sure you sleep with women in every state you fly through.”

He chuckled. “I’m not just flying around states.” See, he didn’t deny it. It meant he had women in other freaking countries too.

“Right. So, when you say things like you might just bite me instead… I’m really not sure—as just a friend—if I should tell you not to or indulge and say I don’t mind a bite here and there.”

He let out a low growl but didn’t really say what he wanted one way or the other. He just kept looking at me with those greeneyes, like he was assessing all the things. “You give me the go-ahead and I’ll fucking ravage you right now, Honeybee.”

“Again, not sure what to say.”