It’s the perfect way to end a road series before returning home tomorrow.
I roll onto my side and curl into a ball, pulling the duvet up to my chin.
With the team traveling, things have been quiet at the training facility this past week. I missed having the guys around.
And even though I’m pretty sure it’s against the rules of our situationship, I miss Knox in particular. I miss the way he looks at me when he thinks no one is watching, miss the sound of myname on his lips, miss the way he holds me in his strong arms after we make lo—have sex.
Restless, I flop onto my back and stare up at the stark white ceiling. The duvet tickles my chin, but it’s far less distracting than thoughts of orgasms.
Great. Five minutes ago, I was beyond exhausted. Now, my mind is racing and sleep is elusive.
That’s what you get for thinking about sex right before bed.
I sigh. How is this my fault? I didn’t ask for thoughts of orgasms dancing through my head. Heck, if anyone is at fault, it’s Knox with his toe-curling pleasure and expert tongue.
If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t even know what I’m missing.
Talk about a tragedy.
Whatever. This wouldn’t even be an issue if I were curled up in his big, cozy bed.
So go curl up in his big, cozy bed. There’s nothing stopping you…
Right. Just the fact that he’s out of town.
He gave you a key, and he said you could use it any time.
I doubt he expected me to pull a Goldilocks when he made that statement.
Ugh. Why is my pillow so flat? It’s like a freaking pancake.
I roll over and give it a few good squishes, trying to get it just right.
Spoiler alert: It doesn’t work.
I lie back down and close my eyes, willing sleep to overtake me.
For an instant, the world goes black, but then my stupid brain kicks into overdrive, filling the darkness with memories of Knox and the first and only time I slept in his bed.
It was like sleeping on a cloud. A cloud with piles of soft, squishy pillows.
He’s out of town, and so is McGinnis.
There’s zero risk of getting caught.
Am I really considering this?
I turn to the clock on my nightstand, the red numbers glowing ominously in the dark.
It’s nearly one, but I can still get a solid eight hoursifI go to sleep now.
Unfortunately, I can’t stop thinking about Knox’s bed. Or the way his mattress hugged and supported my body, making it easy to drift off.
Screw it.
I throw back the duvet, grab my phone, and head downstairs in search of my keys. They’re hanging by the door, as usual, and I lock up as I slip outside.
The night is chilly, raising goosebumps on my arms, and the scent of fall hangs in the crisp air. The combination of musty leaves and damp earth is oddly satisfying, and I can’t help but grin at the skeleton wreath on Knox’s door. Since he’s out of town, I handed out Trick or Treat candy last night, but the neighborhood kids enjoyed his festive décor—which includes skeleton bones, caution tape, and foam headstones—nonetheless.