“You’re staying,” he said.

I sighed. “I’m staying.”

“And you’re not sleeping on the couch. Neither am I.”

My heart did a handspring this time, and I sighed once more and nodded again.

Sixteen

When Jax left the bedroom, I all but ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. Like the rest of his townhome, it was clean and neat. Blue bath rugs on the floor matched a blue shower curtain. No other decorations. Not looking in the wide and long mirror, I quickly undressed. I had to take the bra off. I couldn’t sleep in one, and I wasn’t sure if it had to do with the scars or that it was just uncomfortable as hell. But Jax had been right, the shirt was so big and long that it went to my mid-thighs and wasn’t tight. Plus I’d put the tank top back on under the borrowed shirt and it gave me extra layers.

My undies were cute—hot pink hipsters with a tiny bow in the center—but that didn’t matter, because there was no way in hell he was seeing my undies, so thinking about them or the tiny bow was dumb.

I washed off my eye makeup and grabbed one of the toothbrushes, and tried not to think about why he had so many unopened toothbrushes in his bathroom.

Once I was back in the bedroom, I darted across the room, turned off the light, and then whipped back the covers on the side farthest from the door, and I climbed in. Rolling onto my side, I stared at the closed closet doors for a good twenty or so minutes, suddenly no longer tired.

The bed smelled nice. It smelled like him, actually, a mixture of his cologne and some kind of soap. I inhaled and then almost choked. Was I seriously sniffing his bed? That felt like an all-new low.

Then I heard him coming up the stairs.

It took everything in me not to roll around flailing and acting like a general idiot and to stay still. I ended up pressing my lips together and squeezing my hands tight as his footsteps hit the bedroom. I heard him walk to the dresser, and then the next sounds made me wish I’d taken a deeper breath before holding it.

A zipper was pulled down, the tinny sound stretching my nerves.

Clothing rustled.

Pants hit the floor.

I dipped my chin, and even though the room was dark and all I could see was his shadowy form, I strained to see more. Might make me a perv, but oh well. He was pulling something on—bottoms, but he didn’t appear to have a shirt on as he turned back to the bed.

I’d give an ovary to see those abs in the bright light.

The bed dipped under his weight and there was a slight tug when he pulled the covers up. He shifted around, and although he wasn’t close to me, I could feel his warmth. He didn’t say anything, and I thought of what he’d say earlier, about him knowing me longer than I knew him. That didn’t make sense because he’d been surprised when he’d realized Mona was my mom.