His nostrils flared. "Do you want me to go?"

"Do you want to go?"

He shook his head slowly. "No."

Exhaling raggedly, I wrapped my arms around my stomach and whispered, "I don’t want that either."

He cocked a brow. "So, I'm staying the night?"

A delicious tremor rolled through me. "Guess so."

"Friends?" A smile ghosted his full lips as he closed the space between us. "For real this time? No barriers?"

"For real," I agreed, holding my pinkie finger up for him to hook his with. Now that we had finally addressed the painful memory that hung heavily above us, I felt terrible for my outburst. I shouldn’t be unleashing my pain on Daryl. He was the very last person who deserved it. "No barriers."

Hooking his little finger with mine, he pulled me close and said, "I know you think that I'm not the same guy you left behind, and that I've changed… become the same as the people you see me with at school." Releasing my finger, he fisted the hem of my t-shirt and pulled me flush against him. "And maybe you're right... But if you could just have a little patience, then maybe I can prove you wrong?" His green eyes burned with a mixture of heat and sincerity. "Maybe I can be that guy for you again?"

"Okay," I whispered, nodding up at him. "I can do that."

"Oh, and Molls?" keeping his hand knotted in my shirt, he stared down at me as he spoke. "Feel free to hit me up whenever you're ready for that second kiss."

"Uh…okay?" I replied, breathing ragged.

Grinning, he winked and stepped around me and reached for the ashtray. "Always happy to help."

Fuck.

My.

Life.

28 Daryl

When I woke the following morning, it was to the hangover from hell and the feel of a female wrapped around me.

It took me a few minutes to clear the fog that was blurring my thought process, but once I did, my stomach flipped inside out.

I was shirtless in my bed.

Correction; I was shirtless in Molly's bed.

She was still asleep, with her small frame draped on top of me like my favorite fucking blanket.

My heart, the one that had turned to stone in my chest the night she was taken away from me, roared to life; thudding hard and pumping violently.

Full of blood and pain and life, it beat steadily in my chest.

And I was sporting morning wood.

Rock fucking hard morning wood.

Jesus Christ.

What bad damn luck.

For a long time, I lay perfectly still beneath her and debated my options, before giving into temptation and draping an arm around her tiny waist.

Molly sighed in sleepy contentment, mumbled something incoherent, and then snuggled deeper into my chest.

My dick hardened to the point of pain.

Fuck my life.

Jaw clenched, I closed my eyes and tried to wrangle my testosterone-filled brain out of the damn gutter.

I couldn't be in her bed.