Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(72)

The time glaring back at me from the alarm clock on the nightstand reads 1:48 in the morning.

There’s absolutely no reason for me to be awake. I didn’t have to work a late shift, my travel day was easy, and this hotel bed is one of the most comfortable I’ve ever laid on.

The only reason I can assume that I’m still awake is the man down the hall I can’t stop thinking about.

Is he asleep? Maybe. Did his inability to sleep rub off on me? Possibly.

I want to call him. This is my turn after all, to do the things I want to do. But this also feels reckless, when I should be protecting myself.

Screw it. Neither of us was all that eager to say goodbye earlier when I left his room, so I grab the landline off the nightstand and dial his number. Well, his room number.

He answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Are you asleep?”

“Well, if I was, I sure as hell wouldn’t still be after this phone just started blaring next to my bed.”

I chuckle under my breath. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Why are you awake?”

“I don’t know.”

He doesn’t say anything, waiting for me to elaborate.

“Would you . . .” I stumble. “Would you maybe want to come to my room and sleep here?”

“Yeah,” he exhales quickly. “Yeah, I would. I’ll be right there.”

There’s a moment, right after I throw the comforter off, that I slightly panic. My room is a mess. Clothes are everywhere. I purposefully packed my least sexy sleepwear to keep myself from doing exactly what I just did, so I am by no means prepared to have a man sleep in my bed.

There’s a part of me that wants to clean up my room, to shove everything in my suitcase, to jump in the shower and see if I can find something cuter to sleep in, but then I remember this is Rio that’s coming over and every muscle in me begins to relax.

His knock is quiet, just a rap of his knuckles. I open the door, the light from the hallway illuminating the room with just enough for him to see where he’s going before he closes the door behind him, blanketing us in darkness once again.

He’s standing close by, I can feel him, and once my eyes adjust again, I can see him reach out, fingers toying with the hem of my sleep shorts. Once he finds me, he trails that hand up my side, along my ribs, until he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest for a hug.

“Hi, Hal,” he whispers softly, before placing a kiss on the top of my head and leaving his lips to linger there. “Thanks for letting me get some sleep.”

He says it as if I was dead asleep and woke up only long enough to realize that he was probably still awake. As if I took pity on him by allowing him to come get rest, when in reality, I was tossing and turning thinking of him.

“Am I taking the floor?” There’s an edge of humor in his tone, but knowing him, if I told him yes, he’d happily create a makeshift bed on the floor.

“I’m pretty sure you stopped taking the floor when you were about seventeen.”

He laughs lightly, and the sound vibrates through every inch of my body. Warm and comforting and familiar.

Letting me go, he takes the side of the bed that’s unused, and while still wearing his hoodie from earlier, I slip back under the covers with him.

My knee knocks his and his foot brushes mine as we try to get comfortable. I scoot back to create a bit of distance, keeping myself entirely on my side of the bed. Lying on my back, I cross my hands over my middle, not allowing any part of me to touch any part of him.

I shouldn’t let any part of me want him here either, yet I do.

I really do.

“Since when do you sleep like that?”

Turning to look at him, I find he’s lying on his side, facing me, stupid knowing smirk on his lips.

“Since when do you sleep in a shirt?” I say in retort.

“Well, I didn’t think we were having that kind of sleepover.”

“We’re not.”

“And that’s why I’m still dressed, love. There’s not a world in which I get in a bed with you, even partially clothed, and all we do is sleep.”

I swallow hard. “Well, maybe that’s why I’m sleeping like this. Keeping a safe distance.”

“I’m not going to bite, Hal. Well, unless you ask me to.”

I reach out to smack his stomach with the back of my hand, but he catches my wrist before I can make contact.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling me into him.

I find myself going willingly, rolling towards the center of the bed to face him.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says softly.

I slightly shake my head, but there’s not much authority behind it.

He wets his lips. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” I say quickly. “But you can’t kiss me because I want you to, and that seems dangerous.”

His hand runs down my rib cage, his fingertips drawing circles along my hip bone. “Wanting this again seems dangerous?”

I nod. “Most of what got me through the past six years was the belief that you were terrible, and I was better off without you. It’s been quite terrifying to realize . . . well, to remember, that you aren’t terrible at all.”

He pushes my hair behind my ear, cradling my cheek and running the pad of his thumb over the bone there. “Hallie, I—”