As I returned to my room with two glasses of water in hand, Bailey came out of the bathroom wearing a faded blue t-shirt from one of my minor hockey teams. It hugged the curves of her torso in a way that me borderline jealous of the fabric. And the icing on the cake was the pair of black shorts she'd paired it with that showed off her mile-long legs.

I must have done something in my life right to end up here.

Walking over to the bed, I set down both glasses on the nightstand before turning to face her. Our eyes met and I couldn't keep the stupid grin off my face.

"You look so much better in my shirts than I do."

Her lips curled into a wry smile. "You just want me out of the shirt."

Well, that was also true. But James in my shirt was still pretty awesome.

"It may have crossed my mind."

We stood, looking at each other in the dim light for a couple heartbeats. Faint chatter and video game sounds floated in from downstairs. My gaze fell to her mouth and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, expression clouding over. She seemed nervous, but it was hard to tell whether it was in a good, excited way or a bad, anxious way.

"James." I took a step forward, cupping her chin gently with my hand. Her skin was soft and smooth beneath my fingers, which were callused from my gloves and time in the gym.

She looked up at me through impossibly dark lashes, eyes wide. Her breath was quiet and shallow, like she was nervous or aroused, maybe both. "Yeah?"

"We don't have to do anything tonight if you're not ready."

I wanted her so bad it hurt—literally—but more importantly, I wanted it to be right. Until then, I was going to compile a very long, very detailed list of all the things I was going to do to her in the future.

Plus, I had a hunch I could corrupt her a little if I was patient, and that would be well worth the wait.

"I know," she said softly, looping her hands around my neck. "But what if I want to?"

All the blood left my brain. That was it. I was done.

I sucked my bottom lip, trying to get my head straight. I went into this thinking we would likely just sleep tonight and being perfectly okay with that. Thinking that maybe it was for the best, because I didn't want her to freak out after if we did fool around.

But no guy in his right mind could look at her and say no. And I wasn't in my right mind at the best of times, let alone when I was around her.

My voice turned hoarse. "You might have to spell things out for me because I don't want to push you."

"Okay," she said breathily. Her eyes were smoky, eyelids heavy. "Can we just kiss? Make out a little?"

"Of course," I murmured, wrapping my other hand around her back.

Her expression turned serious and she looked up at me, hesitating. "No sex."

"You're in charge here. I would never pressure you into anything."

Her eyelids fluttered shut as I slid my hand down to her neck, covering her mouth with mine. She let out a little sigh, parting her lips and granting me access. My tongue pushed inside her mouth, claiming, and she opened her mouth wider in response. She tasted better than I remembered, every single time.

Mouths still locked together, I took a few steps backward, walking us over to the bed. Grabbing the backs of her thighs, I pulled her down with me so she was sitting in my lap, straddling me. Her legs spanned my hips, hair tumbling all over the place in a curtain.

Having her on top seemed like a good way for her to feel more in control. But the view was phenomenal too.

Bailey pulled back, gold-flecked eyes meeting mine. They were endless, captivating, and I couldn't look away.

She let out a little gasp as I lifted my hips slightly, moving against her. Leaning in, her lips found mine again, crashing together. I gripped her calves, squeezing, hands sliding up to her thighs. My list of things I wanted to do to her was multiplying by the minute, like kissing every inch of her body. At this point, I could fill an encyclopedia with ideas.

She tangled her hands in my hair, tugging, and I drew in a shuddering breath, squeezing her tighter. Sliding underneath her shirt, I gripped her smooth, bare skin. My hands moved up her ribcage, pausing without moving up to her breasts.

She kissed me again, deeper this time, and arched her back, grinding against me. It was delicious torture. Neither of us had on much clothing, just two thin pairs of shorts, which meant she could feel exactly how much I wanted her in the moment. I wanted to touch her, to slip my hand beneath her waistband and find out if she was as wet as I suspected, but I wasn't going to push it.

Usually, making out was a means to an end for me. But doing nothing but kissing her was fan-fucking-tastic. Maybe I was going soft. Except I was hard as hell, and about to end up with a major case of blue balls.

Still worth it. 100%.

Bailey broke our kiss, inhaling sharply. "Wait." Her cheeks were flushed pink, breath heavy.

"You okay?"

"More than okay." She gave me a shy smile. "But I don't want us to get carried away."

I nodded, because I couldn't really disagree with that. If she wanted me right now it would be almost impossible to say no.

"All right. It's pretty late, anyway."

"Yeah." Bailey sighed, resting her head on my shoulder. Her breath was warm against my neck, which had the effect of making me even harder. "I was up early."

"Me too," I said, rubbing her back. "Breakfast skate." On a weekend. Like I said, Coach Miller loved to fuck with me.

She crawled off me, onto the bed, getting under the covers on the far side. I slid in beside her and moved the pillows around, rearranging them.

"Come here." I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her closer. She yawned and snuggled in against me. Warmth of her body radiated against mine, along with her perfume and shampoo, which together created something so delicious that I wanted to bury my face in her neck and inhale her all night long.

Pretty sure I would have felt trapped and claustrophobic with anyone else draped around me. I couldn't say for sure as I wasn't much of a cuddler and basically never did it. I wasn't a touchy-feely person, aside from the usual "touch-me, feel-you" one-night stand scenario.

But with Bailey, it was perfect.

She lay on my chest while I stroked her long, silky hair, having a mini-panic attack over the fact that I was getting exactly what I wanted, even though I definitely didn't deserve it.

*

I woke up to find Bailey sitting in my desk chair, clutching a mug and staring at her phone. Her caramel hair was piled in a messy bun and she'd cinched the drawstrings on a pair of my grey sweats as much as possible and rolled the waistband down, but they were still way too big. She looked fucking adorable.

Then I realized my desk lamp was on and it was still dark outside.

"What time is it?" I asked, propping myself up on one elbow.

Her eyes lifted to meet mine. "Around five-thirty." She took a sip from the white mug she was holding. "I helped myself to the Keurig downstairs."

"Oh my god, James. It's the middle of the night. What are you doing up?"

"Reading." She shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

Something in my chest clenched. I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, quickly brushing my teeth. Our eyes met as I swung the bathroom door back open, pausing in the doorway.

"Do you have anywhere to be this morning?"

Bailey shook her head. "No, not until after lunch."

I walked over to her, touching her shoulder gently. "Why don't you come try to get back to sleep? If I get a few more hours, I should be more functional after that."

Her expression was guarded, and there was something in her eyes I couldn't interpret. I went back over to the bed and got back under the covers as she bit her bottom lip, hesitating. My breath stilled, tension in my body growing with every second that passed.

"Okay." Setting down her coffee on the desk, she padded over to the other side of the bed, sliding in beside me underneath the grey comforter. The blankets rustled as she moved around, adjusting the pillows and pulling the covers up over her chest until only her head poked out. "I was kind of cold anyway."

"You could take a hoodie. They're just hanging in the walk-in closet." James in my hoodie was probably the only thing that would be even cuter than her in one of my shirts.

"Noted," she said. "Next time."

Well, if there would be a next time I guess that was a positive sign. But something was clearly wrong. I just didn't know what it was.

I shifted to face her. She turned her head, looking at me, full lips parted slightly and breath soft. Her face was so fucking perfect that it almost killed me.

"What's going on?" I asked. "Why can't you sleep?"

"Just couldn't stop thinking. Sometimes I wake up early when my brain is working overtime." She rolled onto her side to face me, big hazel eyes locking onto mine. "Why were you so upset about that text Luke sent to everyone?"

Couldn't even attempt to dodge that question or deflect with humor, because I was clearly more than just upset. I was livid. Still was. I wanted to shove that phone down his throat.

"Was it because you thought it might be true?" Her forehead crinkled. "Did you think I would do something like that?"

"No, not at all." I fumbled inwardly, trying to find a non-pathetic way to phrase it. "I know you can handle yourself, but it just triggered something protective in me. You're one of my favorite people."

Her lips curved into a small smile, gaze softening. "Who are your other favorite people?"

"It's mostly just you, I guess. Not a big fan of humankind in general."

Maybe this was a little crazy given the length of time we had been hanging out, but it was the truth.

"Ah," she said. "Well, now you're stuck with me."

"Thank Gretzky for that."

We fell silent for a moment, looking at one another. Laying with her like this was one of the most intimate moments in my entire life. It almost made my heart ache a little, and I didn't even know why.

"One more question." Bailey looked away and there was a heavy pause. She sucked in a breath, the words coming out in rush of air as she glanced back up at me. "Have you been with anyone else since we started hanging out?"

There was another tug in my chest, because suddenly I knew this was what had kept her awake.

"I mean..." she winced. "I know it's not my bus—"

"No," I said. "It's okay. But the answer is no, I haven't."

She eyed me warily, which kind of hurt. Somehow, I had assumed she would have known the answer was no. But I understood. I knew my reputation preceded me...in a bad way.

"Look," I said, touching her cheek. "In the interest of total transparency, I haven't been with anyone whatsoever since you and I started talking."

Her brow creased. "Would you tell me if you had?"

The puzzle pieces continued to snap into place. She told me about Morrison and all of his shady ass behavior the night we met. Disappearing for days, calls and texts from other girls late at night, flirting right in front of her face. Hockey knows, I was no saint, but he was next-level trash for treating Bailey the way he had.

It stung a little to know she thought I would do those things to her. But I guess getting past that would take time.

"Have you ever known me to be anything other than uncomfortably honest?"

She gave me a half-hearted smirk. "Good point."

I reached over, covering her hand with mine. Her fingers were slender and cool beneath my own. I gently squeezed her hand, lacing my fingers in hers.

"I'll always give you the truth, even if you might not want to hear it."

Her eyes dropped to my hand, then back up to my face. She bit back a smile, letting out a little huff of breath. "Okay."

We fell quiet for a moment and she scooted closer, nestling up against my chest. I rested my cheek against her hair, inhaling the clean scent of her shampoo. She sighed as I ran my fingers up and down her arm, back and forth.

"I don't want anyone else, James."

"You don't?"

"Not even a little," I said, kissing the top of her head.

"Think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"Yeah," she said. "Think so."

Feels! All the feels. 🥺

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