Plus, the longer I was around her the more I wanted her. But she’d been rubbing her eyes nonstop since the fireworks finished, like an overtired toddler fighting sleep. Eventually, Olive gave in, and her tiny feet padded down the hall to my room.

My mind raced thinking of her lying in my bed, wrapping my sheets in her warm sweet scent. I bet she’d lift the sheets to her bunny nose and scrunch up in exhaustion. Mental images of a tired Olive lying in my clothes, in my bed, in my room wer pure torture. I leaned my head against the arm of my couch and sighed. I wouldn’t get any sleep tonight knowing she was right there.

A shiver raced down my spine, and I rose to turn up the heat, in case Olive was cold, too. I went to the thermostat in the hall and saw my bedroom door was wide open. I not-so-accidentally peeked in and found her sitting on the edge of my bed. My knees almost buckled. My beautiful Olive. She’d ditched the baggy sweatpants and was now wearing only my large shirt, those shapely, tanned legs extending from the hem. Her hair was tousled like she had laid down and tossed and turned for a while. Her fingers twiddled as though she was contemplating something, and I stepped closer. The hardwood floors creaked beneath my foot, and her head shot up, mouth gaping open and eyes bugged.

“What are you doing?” She asked quietly.

My response was just as soft. “I can’t sleep.” I’m too busy thinking about you being in here, alone, I wanted to add, but didn’t. I didn’t want to scare her, or make her uncomfortable.

“You could stay in here…with me,” she said, tone sultry. I wondered if she did that on purpose, or if it was simply how she was. “I mean if you wanted.”

And oh, I wanted.

“Umm…” My tongue felt swollen and fat. “I mean I could if you needed me—“

“Finn.” Man, I loved the way she said my name. “Stay here. With me.” She crooked her finger, and I practically floated across the floor to her, pulled into her orbit. I don’t think my feet even moved.

Suddenly I felt like a teenager all over again. My heart pounded against my ribs, and my neck and face grew warm. The sight of her in only a t-shirt, my t-shirt, had me sweating bullets. It was comical, really. I was supposed to be the charmer. I was the one that made people weak in the knees. I was supposed to make her beg for me.