Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,38

hair and the soft, warm, heavily muscled skin around it had my toes curling from how badly I wanted to explore.

All of him, from the top of his dark-haired head down to his very big and very proportionate feet, was like a freaking jungle gym, and it was hard not to want to play on all the parts when I woke up like this.

Making tiny movements so as not to wake him, I turned my nose further into his chest and inhaled deeply. Was it a pregnancy hormone thing? That he smelled like crack and Christmas and cinnamon rolls and everything good that I wanted to hoard to my greedy little chest. The feeling that came with his scent, clean and masculine, was something I wanted to cling to with both hands.

It made me realize just how much I missed the easy affection of my family. The hugs. The playful shoving. Wrestling with Emmett. Someone sitting behind me and braiding my hair while we talked in Logan and Paige's kitchen. There had never been a time in my life when I'd gone so long without someone to clutch me tight in a hug or rub my back while I talked.

Just as I had the night before, I set my chin on his chest and studied his face.

It was stupid how handsome he was.

It was also stupid how much I wanted to wake him up and ride him until his eyes rolled back in his head. Maybe not stupid because we'd said we'd make our own rules for how this was going to play out, but the impulse certainly came with complications.

A subpar, clinical word for that little, teeny baby inside me (roughly the size of a raspberry, according to Sir Google). Sometimes, if my brain started racing too far ahead into the future—to all the unanswered questions waiting patiently for me to answer—my hands started shaking, and I felt very much like I was standing over a dark pit where I couldn't see what waited for me at the bottom.

It might've been a feather bed made of unicorns and sparkles, and I'd land with a gentle bounce.

Or it was something scarier, something bigger that I didn't want to face, and every single time, I backed away from the edge of that pit with a speed that should've scared me.

What if I wasn't good at this?

Oh, that whispered thought was enough to send a slow trickle of ice down my spine.

Would the slight vibration in my limbs wake him?

Could I distract him if it did?

Lurid images danced behind my closed eyes of all the ways I could do that, but I shoved them back. In my clearer moments, when I didn't feel like I was avoiding some big shadowy unknown, I knew better than to dive headfirst into the physical chemistry I felt with Jude. Like the night before when all he did was touch the lower edge of my lips.

Had that reduced me to a throbbing, achy mess? Yes.

Did it solve any of our problems? Nope. (My inner hormone queen who wanted to climb him like a tree pouted very much at that.)

With a resolve I didn't know I had, I carefully extracted my hand out from underneath his shirt, bidding a fond farewell to his happy trail. Jude didn't stir, which was a good thing. If he'd woken, voice all low and rough and calling me love, I would've stripped in five seconds flat.

But he was out.

As I eased my way toward the other side of the couch so I could get up, I remembered Logan being the same way after game day. Especially a loss.

The mental toll was massive on my brother, and I wondered if Jude was the same way. Not all athletes were. They could leave their wins and losses and mistakes on the confines of the field. The leaders weren't like that, though.

As I tiptoed into the kitchen, Logan weighing on my brain, I realized how much of my discomfort stemmed from not just missing family but something else entirely. I was withholding the truth from them because it was easier. Somehow, without all their eyes on me, I felt I could skate seamlessly through the hard.

I found my phone in my purse, battery dangerously low considering I hadn't plugged it in the night before, and I saw a text from Claire that had me smiling.

Claire: If you think I didn't notice that your Find my Friends location stayed in Shepperton last night, you're friggin’