Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Not surprisingly, I couldn’t sleep. The mattress started out mushy and worsened from there. I tried adding air, which made a racket. Still mushy and, if anything, flatter than ever. Attempting to will my body to sleep, I closed my eyes only to have the bed lurch and roll like I was on a rowboat at sea.
Hiss. Too uneven to lay on, it rapidly deflated, especially after I rolled off the thing. I tried again to add air to no avail.
“What’s going on?” Atlas appeared in the doorway. Crap. The last thing I needed was him feeling guilty or thinking I was angling for an invite to my bed.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” Forcing a smile, I gestured for him to return to the bedroom. “A little problem with the mattress staying inflated, but you can go back to bed.”
“No, I can’t.” He glared at me, frustration clear even in the dim hallway light. “Not with you thrashing around out here and turning the motor on and off.”
“Sorry.” I quickly grabbed my pillow and wrapped up in my comforter like an uncomfortable burrito on top of the flat air mattress. “Here. See? I can sleep like this, no problem.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” Atlas crossed the room to come shove my shoulder. When that didn’t work, he freed one of my arms and hauled me upright. I had no business getting aroused, but I couldn’t deny what a turn-on his strength was. And his commanding tone. “You’re not sleeping on the floor.”
“I’m not sure I trust myself in a bed with you,” I admitted. Atlas had been the one to sleep-cuddle last night, but I didn’t trust my body not to defy my best intentions and end up on his side of the bed.
“I’ll take my chances.” He pulled me toward my room. “Come on, Zeb. Come to bed.”
Nine
ATLAS
I couldn’t sleep. I’d slept on planes, transport trucks, buses, and even my much-hated nemesis: helicopters. I’d slept in war zones, barracks, a few fields and beaches, not to mention a cave or two. But never had sleep been as elusive as lying next to Zeb. When I’d discovered him huddled on the floor in his comforter, trying to make the air mattress work, I’d been physically incapable of leaving him there. I’d foolishly figured that my long, cold walk, combined with the retail shift earlier in the day, might have worn me out enough for sleep.
Wrong.
I’d walked from Zeb’s apartment, past downtown, past Seasons, past the Christmas tree lot, the teeny grocery store, the high school that looked unchanged from fifteen years ago, and I’d ended up at the park. I’d followed the entire fitness loop, hammering out pushups, pullups, running a length of tires, and more. I’d sweat enough to discard my jacket, yet I couldn’t outrun that kiss.
Or Zeb’s offer to be my sex experiment.
The worst part was how damn tempted I was to take him up on it. I’d always expected more from kissing and sex. I tried not to dwell on it, but the mediocre results thus far had been frustrating and disappointing. And then I’d kissed Zeb, which had been the opposite of underwhelming.
More like overwhelming, all-consuming, and damn if I didn’t want more. If a single kiss had been that good, I might not survive the sex. And I was almost willing to take the risk. Almost. If Zeb weren’t Gabe’s little brother. If he wasn’t so nice. He deserved better than some secret holiday fling.
If only. I’d learned the hard way not to make wishes. Every time I’d wished for my parents to put down roots, they’d seemed to move on that much faster. I’d wanted us to be more like the Seasons family. I’d wished for them to be stable, normal parents, and well, we all knew how that had turned out. However, as I lay there in the dark next to Zeb, I couldn’t help dwelling on how much I wanted things to be different. And it didn’t help that Zeb was also wide awake. He wasn’t even trying to disguise his breathing or rigid posture.
It was only a matter of time before one of us spoke.
“You know what I keep thinking about?” Zeb asked conversationally like it was the middle of the afternoon and we were on lunch break.
“That kiss?” Oops. I usually had more control over my mouth, but this evening had proven me wrong in multiple ways.
“No, actually.” Zeb rolled toward me, going onto one elbow. I could almost hear him beaming. “But if that’s on your brain…”
“How could it not be?” I groaned.
“It was good, wasn’t it?” He sounded far too pleased with himself, and when he flipped on the dim bedside lamp to peer down at me, I didn’t protest. His smug expression was too cute to miss.