I get an extra blanket from the closet and throw two pillows on the floor. “There. Easy peasy.”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Liam. If anyone should, it’s me. I’m not paying a single penny for this trip.”
“Because you’re my guest, and guests don’t sleep on the floor.”
She picks up the pillows and puts them back on the bed. “It’s a king. We’ll share it.”
I try not to smile. “You want me to build a barrier down the middle? Maybe something with a trip wire?”
“We’re adults, Liam. I think we can sleep in the same bed. Except …”
“What?”
She peers down at her clothes. “I’ve been wearing this all day. I can’t sleep in these.”
I put my suitcase on the dresser and open it. “Pick whatever you want. I’ll get your stuff first thing in the morning. Better yet, we’ll switch rooms, like the original plan.”
She peruses my clothes. I don’t miss how her hands linger on some of my favorite shirts. Does she like them as much as I do? She pulls one out and laughs. “I thought for sure you’d have thrown this away by now.”
It’s the shrimp shirt she made me wear in St. Augustine. I’ll never throw it out. I won’t ever wear it again, but it will always be in my closet.
“I’ll wear this one.” She pulls out a pair of my boxer briefs. “And these.”
She ducks into the bathroom. The shower turns on. I know she’s getting naked, and my dick gets hard. The thought of her in there has so many things going through my head. What makes me go flaccid is when I remember she knows about me. I might have been drunk the night I told her about my dad, but I remember the words. Surely she’s filled in the blanks. She’s knows I’m dirty. She knows I’m not boyfriend material. Hell, I’m barely fuck-buddy material. Unless that fuck buddy is Veronica Collins. But I don’t want Ronni. I never did. I wanted a release. Any time I’ve ever been with a woman, all I’ve wanted was a release.
It’s different with Ella. I crave more. The problem is, it’s something I know I can never have.
She comes to bed with damp hair. My T-shirt goes halfway down her thighs. I swallow hard. Not only will I never throw away that stupid shirt, I might sleep with it under my pillow.
“I’m going to shower, too. You can borrow my phone charger if you need to. It’s on the nightstand.”
“Thanks.”
I pause in the bathroom door. She gets on the bed and crawls over to my side for the charger. Her shirt rides up, and I glimpse my underwear. Holy shit. Does she have any idea how incredibly sexy that is?
She catches me ogling and instantly gets under the covers.
I take the fastest shower in history, not wanting her to think I’m in here whacking off even though I want to. Even though my balls are as blue as the sky at high noon. She’s wearing my fucking underwear.
Three minutes later, I cross to my suitcase wearing only a towel. She’s doing something on her phone. Her head stays down, but her eyes follow me like the eyes of a woman who wants a man. But how could she after what I told her? Even if she could get past my fucked-up life—I can’t.
I pull on sweatpants and brush my teeth, then get into bed, making sure to give Ella the vast majority of space. The last thing I want is for her to feel uncomfortable. A sick feeling washes over me. I switch off the light. “You know you don’t have to worry,” I say, hoping she understands my meaning.
“I know. I trust you, Liam.”
She taps on her phone a while longer, then puts it down and settles into her pillow. Her breathing becomes slow and steady. She’s falling asleep. I wonder if she knows how lucky she is that she can do it so quickly. Then again, we had a long day.
I’m too hot in the sweatpants, so I remove them, careful not to wake her. I’m glad I put on skivvies underneath. I’d hate for her to wake and find me naked in bed next to her.
Two hours later, I stare at the clock for the hundredth time, wishing I had a bottle of whiskey. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I turn on the TV, but I don’t want to wake her. She makes a few