I walked to the bathroom, tossed the condom. It took me all of five seconds, but when I came back, Tabitha was already curled on her side with her eyes closed. I tried not to linger too long on how right this felt, to have a sleepy and satisfied Tabitha dozing in my bed.

But I guessed she probably had rules for this sort of thing.

I smoothed my hand down her back. “Tabitha? Are you asleep?”

“I didn’t move.” Her voice was muffled. Happy-sounding.

I hesitated, unsure of what to say.

But then she peered at me with dreamy eyes through her snarled hair. “Can I stay?”

I nodded. Flipped off the light with trembling fingers and climbed into bed. I opened my arms as if we’d always done this. In the dark, I felt the bed tilt and then her warm, naked body curling into my chest.

Turns out, there were many different kinds of fantasies to long for.

I stroked her hair and kissed the crown of her head. “You can always stay,” I whispered.

“I want to,” she murmured, so soft I almost didn’t catch it.

26. Tabitha

Twenty-Six

Tabitha

The next morning, I woke to the sound of a steady, comforting thump.

I nuzzled closer and was rewarded with Dean’s hand, caressing my hair, and his arm banding more tightly around my waist. I splayed my palm over the center of his chest. His muscles twitched beneath my touch.

Thump…thump.

I opened my eyes as I realized I’d fallen asleep to the sound of Dean’s heart beating, our limbs entwined and peaceful like we’d been lovers for decades.

My brain fired off a flurry of SOS messages. It wasn’t that I’d stayed the night—I didn’t usually have a problem falling asleep in other people’s beds, even if I’d carved clear boundaries and limits into our relationship. It was that we hadn’t done that. I hadn’t subjected him to my usual speech filled with terms and conditions, all the little ways I could control the situation so no one got hurt.

Instead, I’d let this foolishly soft heart of mine open a fraction of an inch, and the first thing I did was cling to Dean all night long like he was a raft and I was a shipwrecked sailor.

I attempted a subtle morning stretch while still trapped against Dean’s delicious body. My own was eager to remind me of all we’d done last night. I touched my swollen lips, the tender skin of my throat. Felt a burn between my legs and an ache in my hips. On the floor were the discarded remnants of Dean’s fantasy—the stiletto heels and lingerie set I’d bought in a hurry to make his dreams come true.