Her bedside lamp was still aglow, and he could clearly see her gorgeous eyes. Her beloved, fascinating face. Her expression, twisted with—
Was that hurt?
“Why are you sorry, Alex?” Her chin trembled, and she clenched that soft jaw tight. “Are you sorry because it’s me in this bed with you, and not someone else?”
His mouth literally dropped open.
“What—” He gave his head a shake against the too-hard pillow, befuddled and disbelieving. “What the hell does that mean?”
Her quivering chin tipped high, and she blinked hard. “Here we are, living out your favorite fics. One bed. Cuddling for warmth. And maybe you got caught up in things and forgot exactly who was in your—”
He laughed. He laughed loudly and uncontrollably, and by the time he calmed himself, Lauren was huddled as far away from him as possible in their bed. Which wasn’t far, because she wasn’t a small woman, and the bed wasn’t particularly large.
“I need to tell Marcus about this,” he said, only to realize he’d made things worse, because her already-pained face collapsed in on itself in absolute humiliation and horror. “No, Wren, no. Whatever you’re thinking, no.”
Okay. He was doing this.
No more hesitance. No more weighing words and consequences. He should have known better. He wasn’t made for restraint.
He was made to love. Loudly and forever.
“I need to tell Marcus, because just this week, he called me an oblivious moron for not realizing I was into you long before now. Weeks ago. Shit, months ago.” When she gasped, her mouth gaping in apparent shock, he rolled his eyes, because really? She truly hadn’t realized? “And you’re wondering whether I somehow didn’t realize you were the woman in my bed, you were the woman grinding against my goddamn thigh—”
He shook his head, amused and frustrated and horny as hell. “I need to tell him you’re just as big an idiot as I am. Maybe bigger.”
Her words were so quiet, he could barely hear them over the ceaselessly chugging air conditioner. “You’re … into me? Are you … are you sure?”
The horror twisting her features had vanished, replaced by caution. Watchfulness, even as hope trembled at the corners of that tempting mouth.
Aggravation evident in every word, he laid out the evidence. “Lauren, I’ve kissed your forehead. I’ve kissed your cheek. I’ve hugged you for frankly absurd amounts of time. I’ve stroked your thigh. I begged you to go on a road trip with me and share my bed. I jerked off in the shower like ten minutes ago thinking of you on top of me, holding me down, and coming on my cock. And despite that, I accidentally stabbed your stomach with my stupid damn dick moments ago, after using your full legal name. How the fuck is my desire for you—specifically you—even in question?”
Her eyes were wide. Dazed. “I didn’t know you … did that … in the shower. I thought you’d slipped.”
“But you knew about the rest of it. Unless you’re having amnesia issues. Which, incidentally, is another of my favorite fic tropes, so if you’re an amnesiac or want to pretend to be one, let me know, and we can have some fun with that.”
Oh, the role-playing possibilities were endless.
“I remember everything, but … I had no idea what it meant.” She was still blinking at him from across the bed. “None.”
Did she think he randomly stroked women’s thighs just for the fuck of it?
The more he considered what she’d said, the more upset he got. “No matter what happens or doesn’t happen between the two of us, sexually and romantically, I thought we were friends. Real friends. So how the fuck could you think I would use you as a generic body in my bed?”
It hurt. That she thought so little of him was an arrow piercing his chest, ripping through muscle and bone, punching a hole in his heart.
It was too hot under the blankets now, and he flung them away and heaved himself out of bed to stand, vibrating with pain, on the freezing fucking floor.
“Alex …” she said, but he couldn’t look at her. “Alex, I’m—fuck.”
Then she was right there. Kneeling on the bed in front of him, reaching for him. Her small, strong hand clamped on his neck and yanked him toward her, and she kissed him. Hard.
Her mouth was hot on his, her lips demanding, and when he opened to her, her tongue swept inside his mouth without hesitation and claimed her territory. He sucked on that bold tongue, battled it, stroked it with his, and his stomach swooped in lust and joy.