63. Rosalyn

SIXTY-THREE

ROSALYN

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I'm the one cuddled against Nathan, but he's the one holding me like I might disappear.

Like he can't let me go.

I inhale deeply, letting his scent fill my lungs.

He's acting like this is the beginning of something.

But I'm the one who knows this won't last.

It can't.

Vibrations wake me.

I crack an eye open.

The room isn't as dark as it was, but it's not light out either. It's that time right before dawn, before the world wakes up.

The vibrations continue, and I blink as I realize there's something heavy and warm on my back.

During the night, I slung my leg up over Nathan's thigh, and I draped myself farther over his chest, my arm draped all the way across his body.

His arms are wrapped around me, in a hug tighter than I thought possible for a sleeping person. But his arms aren't vibrating.

I lift my head from Nathan's chest and arch my neck to look behind me.

A pair of eyes looks back at me.

I squeak, then try to hold very still.

The cat's face is inches from mine. A cute little orange face, but we haven't been properly introduced, and I don't want to be swatted by startled claws.

"Good kitty," I whisper, trying to remember the cat's name.

Nathan grumbles something, and the arms around me tighten. Then the cat starts purring again, and the vibrations finally make sense.

Not a bad way to wake up.

I give myself a mental shake.

I need to get home so I can spend the day cooking. And I need to leave before I get used to this cozy little wake-up scene.

Nathan was nice enough to let me—a.k.a. make me—stay here so he could drive me home safely, but I won't read into it. He's just a nice guy doing nice guy things.

And I'll admit the sexual tension between us has been real since the moment we first saw each other again. But we've done the deed. We've broken the spell.

Time for me to get back to life.

I look at the cat again.

He looks back at me.

"Excuse me." I stick to my whisper. "But I need to get up."

The cat just blinks at me.

"Please." I lift my shoulder, jostling him a bit.

He lowers his head and licks his paw.

"Stubborn little thing." Just like his owner.

Nathan makes another sound, then he starts to move.

Still asleep, he shifts toward me, rolling me onto my back.

"The cat!" I shriek, not wanting to crush him .

Nathan jolts at my outburst, but he's already on top of me.

And the cat, as I should have known, jumped out of the way.

"What?" Nathan's voice is full of sleep, and it's stupidly attractive.

"The cat was on me," I explain, but my words are muffled because Nathan's heavy weight is pressing down on my chest.

He lifts his head to look down at me, then plants a hand on the mattress and lifts some of his weight off my ribcage. "Cat…" He glances past me to where I assume the feline is on the floor. "Oh, sorry about that."

"What? No, I didn't mind the cat. I just didn't want you to smoosh him." I plant a hand against Nathan's chest. "Like you're smooshing me."

Nathan leans his body back against mine, trapping my hand. "Can't have any smooshing." Then he presses his lips to my forehead.

Something tightens around my lungs, and it has nothing to do with the body on top of mine.

Forehead kisses are playing dirty.

The cat meows loudly.

Nathan groans and rolls off me, flopping onto his back. "Dude, it's literally hours before your breakfast time."

The cat meows again.

It's different from the first one, and I have a feeling he's disagreeing with his human.

I push myself up to sit and look down at the gorgeous animal. "What's his name again?"

"Charles." Nathan yawns. "The animal shelter had listed his name as Caramel, but I could tell he didn't like it."

I bite down on a smile as I study the cat and find I have to agree. Charles is much too sophisticated to be a Caramel.

As though he knows what I'm thinking, Charles sits up straighter in what can only be called a regal posture.

I sigh.

I need to leave before I never want to go.

"I've always wanted a cat." The admission is out of my mouth before I can stop it. "Ever since I can remember."

Nathan rolls his head toward me. "Yeah? "

I nod.

"Why didn't you get one?" Nathan asks the obvious question.

Because my mom was allergic.

Because after my mom died, my dad would scream at me anytime I mentioned getting one.

Because even after my dad died, I wasn't sure I'd be around to take care of it.

Because sometimes I still worry about my past catching up to me.

Because a part of me doesn't feel like I deserve the unconditional love of a pet.

"Because I work too much." Sadness drips from my words, and I clear my throat. "Speaking of…" I start to climb out of the bed. "I should get going."

Honestly, I could sleep for a couple more hours and still get everything done on time. But I'd rather leave before the light of day.

It'll be better that way.

Nathan lets out another yawn. "Alright. I'm up."

Charles stands and comes over to weave between my feet.

"I'll just order a ride. You don't need to drive me. Go back to sleep." I reach down and run my fingers down Charles's back. His fur is so soft beneath my touch.

"No dice," Nathan says with a stretch as he stands opposite the mattress from me. "You're not getting a ride with a stranger at…" He glances at the clock. "Five in the morning."

I do my best not to stare at the morning wood tenting his pants. "Nathan?—"

"Not budging on this, Rosie." His tone is serious.

"Fine." I widen my eyes at him. "Be unreasonable and start your day stupid early."

He smirks. "Glad we agree." He tips his head side to side, cracking his neck. "Just let me brush my teeth, then I'll make us some coffee."

I almost tell him I don't need coffee, but that would be a giant lie.

I always need coffee. Now more than ever.

Charles lets out another loud cat shout and trots after Nathan, who is striding across the room.

They have a similar swagger, and as they disappear into the bathroom, I can't recall ever seeing anything cuter .

I fully intend to use some of Nathan's toothpaste when he's done, but while he's occupied, I'm going to hunt down my underwear.

Except when I circle the bed, I can't find his pants anywhere. Or any of his clothes.

I know he threw them on the floor, same as I did when we first got here. But where my outfit is folded nicely on the dresser, his clothes are nowhere to be seen. Meaning my panties are gone with them.

I'd crouch to look under the bed, but I'm sure they're not there. And the ache between my legs has pulsed with every movement I've made, reminding me exactly what we did last night. And crawling around on the floor isn't going to help that.

Accepting my fate, I pick my clothes up with a frown. I'm really not looking forward to putting these pants on without underwear, but I'm not willing to ask Nathan if I can wear his clothes home.

Not only do I not want my neighbors to see me like this, but I also don't want Nathan to feel obligated to see me again. And taking his clothes home would do just that.

Bundle in hand, I walk through the open bathroom door just as Nathan turns off his electric toothbrush.

He makes eye contact with me through the mirror as he spits into the sink.

The ache between my legs intensifies.

That should not be hot.

I look away and rush across the tile floor into the small toilet room, shutting the door behind me.