Page 45 of Dear Future Husband (The Dearly Written #1)

I spun on my heels to find a half-naked Trey standing there in a towel, looking half dead.

The horny cloud in my brain cleared as I stepped up to him with his clothes.

“Put these on and we’ll get you in bed.”

He nodded, causing droplets of water to drip off the soaked curls of his hair. When I held the clothing out to him, his large hands enveloped mine.

My eyes shot to his.

“Thank you,” he let out on a sigh.

I gave him a lame smile. “Get dressed, Turner.”

When he later exited the bathroom in only the sweats, I shot an accusatory look at him.

Even ill, his smile was—invigorating.

“I’m overheating. I promise I’m not trying to seduce you… I mean, unless you want me to.”

I was impressed I had the willpower to roll my eyes and look elsewhere.

Gosh, what was wrong with me? Poor boy was sick as a dog, and I couldn’t help but want to get a quick peek of him naked in the shower or think of how he’d react if I just casually jumped his bones.

Ever since our stupid conversation outside that stupid party about our stupid kiss, I’d been a pathetic mess of want. Unable to get the images of our kiss and Trey’s hands on my body out of my mind.

I faced his bed, doing my best to ignore the chaos in my head and heart as I turned down the covers for him. “Lay down. I’ll get you some water. ”

As Trey stepped toward the bed and I to the door, he stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“Mayhem,” he whispered.

I faced him with a step closer. “Trey?”

He swallowed hard. “I appreciate your help, but please, I’ll be okay. You should go. I don’t want to get you sick.”

I took another step toward him, and he stepped back.

“Trey.”

That smile.

“Maybelle?”

“Please stop trying to take this away from me.”

That smile fell, and confusion replaced it. “Taking what from you?”

This time, he didn’t back away when I neared him. “My chance to take care of you. You’ve done so much for me. More than I deserve. Please, for once, allow me to be there for you. It can’t be compared to the kindness you’ve shown me, but at least it’s something.”

His eyes softened; his lips pinched tight as his head bobbed. He got into the bed, and I retrieved a water for him.

His skin no longer looked sickly, but it was flushed and on fire. I retreated to the bathroom, soaking a small washcloth in cool water and ringing out the excess. I placed the chilled cloth on his forehead and his eyes blinked open at me.

Those eyes.

They studied me, like he was memorizing me.

They followed the shape of my lips, the shifting of my throat, the rise and fall of my breathing. Then the way the mattress caved in as I perched on the edge.

He shouldn’t be looking at me like that.

I can’t want him to look at me like that.

“So, about last night.” It was the first subject that came to mind and the best way I knew how to get him to stop looking at me like that .

It worked.

Trey’s focus went vacant as he forced a jeering grin. “What about it?”

“You can’t do that.”

He eyed me. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, love.”

I rolled the term of endearment off my shoulders. “The whole possessive alpha dog crap. You interrupted—a moment—between Sam and I, then dragged me out to the cars and sent me home like a child. You can’t do things like that.”

I expected him to bicker with me more, tease, but he didn’t. His head slumped to the side of his pillow, away from me.

“How is Samuel today? Not too shaken up, I hope.” A sly smile tugged at the corner of his mouth with his question, but he still didn’t look at me.

“Fine, I think,” I said, and I immediately regretted it.

His head jerked back, green eyes narrowing. “You think?”

My lips pulled into a tight line. Shit .

“May, have you not reached out to the poor boy since last night?”

I fumbled, stumbled, and bumbled for the right words, but what could I say? No, I hadn’t checked in on Sam… Or replied to his last texts he sent me the night prior and this morning. But that part, I would not admit to Trey.

“I’ve been busy.”

It was a sorry excuse. I knew it and by the look he leveled at me under the damp cloth still pasted to his head. He knew it too.

“How long have you been feeling sick?” I asked, hoping he could follow the subject change. I was a fool.

“Since last night. I thought the nausea was from seeing you and Sam together, but I guess not.”

If looks could kill .

“Okay, okay, I’m done,” he yielded. “How’s work been? Is that creep still bothering you?”

I shook my head and sighed. “Rick hasn’t bothered me; Penny was exaggerating the story to get a rise out of you. He stares at Penny far more than he stares at me,” I tried to reason, but with how Trey’s eyes widened, I knew it didn’t help.

“He shouldn’t be staring at you at all.”

“What’s wrong with a little harmless staring?”

His brows knitting together had me biting back a giggle. He didn’t respond right away; he more just watched me like I deeply offended him.

“What?” I poked him in the broad, bare chest. “Let me guess. You’re the only one who’s allowed to stare at me?”

“Exactly.”

Scoffing, I adjusted, and his resting arm nudged against my thigh. I recognized then that I had drifted farther onto the bed, always lured in by his magnetism.

I needed to get away, put distance between us before I did something truly crazy.

“I should let you get some rest,” I said. I scooted off the edge of the mattress but stopped when his fingers hooked through the belt loops of my pants.

“Don’t—stay, please.”

And there went all my willpower, right out the damn window. I was weightless, hovering as I followed the pull of Trey’s fingers back onto the bed, deeper into his space.

I really was a weak, weak woman.

Before I knew it, I was lying next to him, sinking into him. His arm wrapped around my back, and my cheek pressed into the skin of his chest.

He was so warm, and not because of the fever. Trey always radiated a heat that I wanted to bathe in. Just a moment, I could bask in this feeling of him for just a few more moments.

His hand on my back floated up into my hair. His fingers combed through the ends of my curls, down the line of my spine. A riot of goosebumps erupted along my skin with the delicate touches of his firm hands.

“Maybelle.” His whispered prayer of my name smelled sweet, minty.

My eyes were growing heavy as I answered, “Yes, Trey?”

His hand continued to toy with the ends of my hair as he inhaled deeply. “Have you gotten to the part in your journal where you talk about what your perfect day would look like?”

I smiled, letting my hand draw patterns across his chest. “ My perfect day would be a day in the sun with you by my side. I don’t care what we are doing, where we are. As long as the sunshine is on my face, and you are holding my hand ,” I recited from my recent memory of the passage.

He sniffed a laugh. “Yeah.”

He took one curl, winding it around a finger as he pressed his cheek and chin into the top of my head.

“You know, you actually sound in love when you write to him,” he noted, his words breathing through the golden frizz on the top of my head.

“Do you think it’s possible that you really fell in love with someone you’ve never met? ”

I only needed to ponder his words for a breath before I nodded against his chest. “Yes.”

I could believe it was possible to fall in love with someone I’d never met, because—if I was being honest with myself—I was falling for someone I couldn’t remember.

The hand in my hair fell still against my back again, then cinched me up into him. “May, can you stay with me, please?”

“I am.”

His head rolled side to side. “No, I mean— stay with me, for the night.”

I lifted my head then to find viridescent eyes. He had removed the wet cloth. I couldn’t differentiate between my scalding skin and what could’ve been his fever. He needed a hospital if that heat was his fever.

“For the night?” I asked, breathless.

Trey’s hand came up, cupping my cheek.

“Or however long you’ll give me, but if you’re going to stay—let me pretend you chose me.

Pretend that last night didn’t happen. Let me hold you and pretend that I never have to let you go.

Pretend with me that nothing and no one else exists.

Let me pretend you choose this: us. You can go back to reality tomorrow, May, but please, stay with me.

Let me hold you and let me pretend you’re mine. ”

My heart tripped, skipped, and ripped through its cage, desperately reaching out to him.

“Please,” he mouthed, and I knew he would not ask again. It wasn’t a choice; I already knew my answer.

I slid up, closer. We were sharing the same air, giving, and breathing each other’s inhales and exhales.

I could do this, give him this.

Give us this. Let it just be us.

Resume reality—tomorrow.

I leaned into the hand, caressing my cheek. The moments were eternities dragging on and the hope that gleamed in his gaze melted away.

“I’m yours.”

My words glided out on a soft wind, levitating between us. Then I didn’t think I caved into him. Trey hauled me completely on top of him, tangled me into him and his sheets. Feeling his skin, I could tell his fever had broken. But my fiery nerves were blazing, burning, thrumming.

I was his. Just for tonight. Pretend.

We were pretending. Pretending .

We didn’t leave the room, the bed. We didn’t eat. I curled up on him, held to him like I could absorb him into my soul. Trey sprawled out on me, playing with my curls .

I was his, and he was mine.

Pretend. Pretend. Pretend.

That silence, our silence. That peaceful, encompassing silence was with us through the hours. It was with us in the pillows, the bedding, dancing across our skin.

I was his, and he was mine.

And when tomorrow came and I left, I couldn’ t stop pretending.