“Can you crawl to the couch so we can be couch-locked together?” I ask.

He slowly makes his way over to me and oozes up the side of the couch.

Luckily, I keep my next thought to myself. It takes effort, to think it instead of say it. That there really is nowhere I’d rather be than couch-locked here with Miles.

CHAPTER 29 - MILES

CHAPTER 29

MILES

I startle awake from the kind of sleep that feels decadent, deep, and delicious, like a Sunday lie-in that goes on until noon. I’m surprised to find myself still on the couch, even more surprised by the arm that’s draped over my bare chest. I peek down my nose to watch Zoey’s face, relaxed in a way I’ve hardly ever seen, her breath gently tickling some of my chest hair.

I close my eyes again, settling deeper into the expensive upholstery. I remember what happened last night, but I’m feeling too peaceful to analyze the whys and hows of it. Maybe Zoey is onto something with her West Coast weed. If this is the way she felt all the time, no wonder loud, cranky, sober New York isn’t cutting it for her.

Five minutes later, I feel her stirring and when I open my eyes this time, she’s looking back at me.

“Morning,” she says with a shy grin. “How are you?”

“I’m pretty great, although it sounds like we’re in the middle of a countdown in The Hurt Locker. Should we look for a wire cutter, do you think?”

She giggles and glances at the far wall, which has dials and hands screwed into it so that it is not so much a wall as a giant, loudly ticking clock.

“I didn’t even hear that until now. How is that possible?”

“To be fair, we were kind of preoccupied.” Before I can stop myself, I’m running my fingers through her tousled hair.

She leans into my touch and closes her eyes, and then makes a move to roll off me.

I tug her gently back. “Last night was . . . surprising. In the best way.”

Zoey bites her lip, looking nervous, though I don’t know why she would be.

“Speaking of surprises . . .” she trails off. “Actually, let me get dressed, and then we’ll, um, talk.” We need to “talk” already? Does she regret what happened between us?

She’s rolling off me again, still naked, and I can’t help but stare at the way her curves are silhouetted in the morning light.

She catches me and sticks out her tongue, lightening the mood again. “Times like these I wish I lived in the movies. Where an artfully draped sheet is never more than an arm’s length away.”

“Times like these, I’m glad you don’t,” I say, grinning wickedly at her as she hops into her panties. She rolls her eyes but I see a smile too.