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Totally want that.

But I wait too long because her body goes lax and her breaths slow, even out.

She’s asleep.

Later, I think, I’ll tell her later.

I draw her closer and allow myself to drift off.

And I do it thinking that my childhood bedroom might not hold a lot of good memories, but this trip is sure as shit creating a fuck-ton of them now.

TWENTY-NINE

Violet

I wake warm and safe and held tight.

And this time there’s no moment of disorientation.

Yes, part of that is when I peel back my lids, I see the buxom bikini model posters on the wall and the hockey trophies on the nightstand.

But I knew I was in Ace’s arms even before I opened my eyes.

And not because I went to sleep in them.

Because of that warm and safe and being held tight.

Fuck.

I’m playing a dangerous game—sharing what I’ve shared, kissing him back, sleeping in his freaking arms.

Yet, just like the stupid football game that resulted in me learning I have a killer right hook, I find I can’t stop myself from joining in.

Dumb.

I need to⁠—

Before I figure out exactly what it is that I need to do, before I continue down the line of thinking that’s going to have me veering headfirst into an existential crisis, the man holding me shifts.

“I know you’re awake,” he murmurs, lips at my ear.

We shifted in the night and my back is to his front, so I don’t know how he knows I’m no longer sleeping.

He can’t see that my eyes are open.

And I didn’t call out his name.

I didn’t even think about it.

And veering—veering!—toward that existential crisis.

“You’re stiff as a board, princess,” he says, still murmuring. “That’s how I know you’re awake. I lost that luscious ass of yours.”

“You didn’t lose the tit, though,” I grumble, referencing his words from the day before and making myself suddenly very aware of how good it feels to have his hand there.

I’m don’t have big boobs, and they’re certainly not overflowing his palm.

But he doesn’t seem to mind when he chuckles and starts massaging.