I exhale, relieved.

Gray glances over. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

I shake my head, then squint at the cover of the paperback. Laugh.

He shrugs, not at all embarrassed. “I was curious. It has my name in the title.”

Without really thinking about it, I move. I drape my arm over his stomach and rest a leg between his. “Did you learn anything?” My voice is sleepy. Anxiety has drained away, leaving contentment behind.

“Sure, if you want to experiment with safe words.”

I laugh before I close my eyes. His chest rises and falls as he breathes. I can hear the swoosh of his heart. Rather than lull me to sleep, it keeps me awake. I like listening to the rhythmic, reassuring whoosh.

After a few minutes, I slide out of bed. Goose bumps rise as the air-conditioning hits my bare skin. “I’m getting some water. You want anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

I nod before walking into the hallway, turning lights back on as I go. My glass from earlier is still sitting out on the kitchen counter. I refill it and retrace my steps back to my bedroom. Rather than head straight for bed, I linger in the doorway.

Gray hasn’t moved. He has one arm tucked behind his head, making his bicep bulge. Either he’s actually absorbed in the book or he’s a really good actor because he doesn’t look up as I continue staring at him. The lamp by my bed illuminates the tanned skin of his bare chest and the brown hair I made a mess of with my fingers.

I might be drooling a little bit.

The glass of water gets set on a box, and then I climb back into bed.

He looks over as soon as the sheets shift. “You didn’t want to take a picture?”

“Shut up,” I grumble as I lie down and cross my arms.

Smug satisfaction radiates off him.

The paperback hits the comforter with a soft thud.

“You tired?”

“No,” I admit. I should be exhausted; it’s the middle of the night. “I have to go feed the cat at seven. My parents won’t be back for a few more days.”

His brow creases with confusion. “Why did you tell me to come here, then?”

“I figured you’d prefer it. You know…it’s cleaner.”

“Cleaner?” he echoes.

“Easier,” I amend.

“Easier?”

“Stop repeating everything I say!”

“I’m trying to figure out what you’re saying.”

I sigh. “I know you said you don’t think it’s weird, but I do. Having sex with you in my childhood bedroom is weird for me. Having sex with me next door to the house you grew up in must be somewhat strange for you.”

He’s silent.

“You’re barely in Charleston. I live here now. It’ll be easier to…move on from this if there aren’t reminders of you everywhere.”