More Than Dare You - Shayla Black Page 0,30

the black baby-fine hair at his crown. “Sleep tight.”

Her obvious affection for him messes with my head. What if Masey isn’t like the one who ripped out my heart? Is there any chance…

No. I have to stop thinking like this. It’s late, and I’m tired. I’m not making sense.

With my thoughts in turmoil, I guide her toward my bedroom, glad I cleaned up at least a little.

“My sheets are fresh,” I promise. “I just did laundry earlier today. Speaking of which, thanks for folding the last load of Ranger’s things in the living room. And for cleaning up the kitchen, too. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t mind. When you dropped Ranger and me off, he woke up, so I gave him a bath. We played for a bit. OMG, he loves that plushy football.”

I smile fondly. “He does. Noah gave it to him when he was born, and he swears it’s a sign that my son is going to follow in his uncle’s footsteps.”

Her light laughter fills the space between us as we enter my bedroom—and does that something dangerous to my heart again. “I believe it. He’s a big boy, too.”

“A chunker, for sure. He’s already at the top of the height and weight charts, almost twenty-eight inches long and twenty pounds.”

“Wow. That’s amazing, but not really a surprise. You and Noah aren’t small men, either.”

I refrain from a sophomoric size joke. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but… “It runs in the family. My mom’s people have lived in Hawaii for a few generations but they came originally from Samoa.”

“Like the Rock?”

“I guess. They’re all big and athletic. My dad was from the mainland, but he played football in high school and college. He probably would have gone on to play pro if his asthma hadn’t given him so much hell and he hadn’t gotten in a motorcycle accident that tore up his knee.”

“Makes sense. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

We pause in the middle of the room. I look at her. She looks back at me. I’m exhausted and I’m worried about my job tomorrow. It’s lucrative. It alone will pay half my mortgage this month. I don’t want to cancel, so I have to come up with some alternate babysitting situation.

But all I can think about is Masey. I’ll be next to her. Remembering everything about her. Wanting to touch her. Smelling her. Desiring her.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

Too late now…

“Thanks. Let’s find you that shirt.”

I rummage through my dresser and find a black T-shirt that reads hi in white block letters and uses the shape of the islands to dot the i. It’s a bit too small for me, so maybe it won’t be too comically big on Masey.

She takes it from my grip. “Thanks. I’ll, um…use the bathroom in the hall.”

It’s cleaner than mine, and she probably wants some privacy. “Sure.”

When she slips out of my room, I hit the bathroom, head for my bed, then hesitate. I usually sleep naked. I don’t own a pair of pajama pants; most of the year, it’s too hot in Hawaii for that. I debate what to do, then decide to change into a pair of basketball shorts. The rest she’s already seen.

After setting my alarm, I’m climbing between the sheets when she ducks back into my room shyly with her hair piled on top of her head and her face scrubbed clean. If she’s wearing anything other than the shirt I gave her, it doesn’t show. She’s definitely taken off her bra, and immediately memories of her soft breasts and hard nipples barrage me.

I clear my throat and pull the sheet back for her.

She slides in beside me almost gingerly. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you. It’s the least I can do.” I roll away and turn off my bedside lamp. “If I snore too loud, just elbow me.”

Her laugh is stiff, but I appreciate her working with me to cut through the awkward. “If I hog the blankets, just tell me to let go.”

“You got it.” I settle onto my pillow with a sigh and wonder if I’ll sleep a wink tonight. I can’t see her, but I feel the dip of her in the bed next to me. I’m so aware that she’s inches away.

She roots around for a comfortable position. Silence ensues. Minutes pass. I’m pretty sure that, like me, she’s got no chance of falling asleep anytime soon.

“You okay?” I ask. “Are you too uncomfortable? I can go sleep on

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