25. Hunter

"Hey."

I gasp, startled by Greedy's presence in the doorway.

"What are you doing in here? Are you okay?" he whispers, his eyes filled with concern.

He's dressed in a pair of dark boxer briefs that sit low on his hips and nothing else, his body strong, hard, and lean. My clit tingles in a Pavlovian-like response as I take him in. It's impossible not to relish the memory of how it felt when his body hovered over me and he slid into me for the first time hours ago.

"I'm perfect," I assure him, sitting upright on the chaise lounge to make room.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Yawning, he trudges into the room and joins me on the lounger.

With a low rumble of appreciation, he wraps one arm around my shoulders and rubs a hand over the soft T-shirt covering my arm. I grabbed the first thing I found when I stumbled out of bed a few hours ago—a clean shirt in the top of a dresser. The clothes we left strewn on the floor all smell like bonfire.

I rest my head on his shoulder and kiss his bicep once, then turn to meet his gaze.

"I slept for a few hours. This happens sometimes. Usually around the full moon." A yawn catches me by surprise. "I'm tired, but I'm more restless than anything. I don't like laying in bed fighting sleep. I usually just turn on my light and read."

"But you didn't want to wake me up," he surmises. He kisses my shoulder and breathes me in. "I wouldn't have minded, Tem."

"I know. I really like it in here, though." I scan the shelves, then take in the comfy furniture. I can't wait to see how this room glows when the sunrise streams in through the wall of windows.

"My mom loved this room."

Suddenly, a little pit of dread forms in my stomach. Have I overstepped or taken up space that wasn't mine to claim? Shit. I pull back slightly, tucking my legs under me to put a bit of distance between us.

"Is it okay that I'm in here?" I ask, fiddling with the hem of my T-shirt. "If it's weird for you, or if you want me to leave—"

"Hunter." Greedy gently grasps my arms and pulls me in so close I'm practically sitting on his lap. "I love that you're in here."

With his arms wrapped around my torso like this, the worry drains from me, and I sink back into his hold.

He loves that I'm here.

He wants me to be here.

In my heart of hearts, I believe him, and I know his words from earlier are true: he wants me.

Me? I want him, and I want to be his.

He yawns again, resting his cheek on the top of my head.

"You don't have to stay in here with me," I tell him as a yawn forces its way out of me, too. Eyes closed, I give myself a minute to snuggle against his chest, fully prepared for him to head back to bed and leave me to it.

He lowers his head and presses his lips to mine, inspiring goose bumps to erupt from my tailbone to the crown of my head.

"I want to be wherever you are." He releases me for a moment and slides lower on the chaise so his head is on my thighs and his feet dangle off the end. "I can sleep anywhere. Even with the lights on. You read. I'll sleep." He snags the book I have tented on the ground and lifts it overhead to hand it to me.

"Did you start this tonight?" he asks, scanning the shelves, as if to figure out where I took it from.

"I brought this with me," I admit, pulling my lip between my teeth.

He holds back his commentary but gives me a pointed look.

"I was being honest." I laugh nervously. "I'm not a great sleeper. I like to be prepared."

He yawns again. This one is so big it forces his eyes closed. He keeps them shut as he nuzzles his head in my lap and repositions himself until he's comfortable.

"We could swap out some of these books. This room is special, but the books aren't sentimental. I'll fill every one of these shelves with your favorites. This could be your library."

"Sounds perfect," I murmur dreamily, taking in the cozy space.

My library.

Created by my own perfect boyfriend.

For a little while, I stay like that, with my book on the arm of the chaise, and scrape my nails against his scalp. His breathing evens out, and just as I'm certain he's asleep, he speaks again.

"I want to tell you something."

"What is it?"

He doesn't open his eyes, and he doesn't sit up when he says, "I think I love you."

I freeze, even as my heart beats wildly in my chest. "Think?"

He's silent for a moment, then he turns his head in my lap and meets my gaze, his mossy-colored eyes swimming with confidence.

"No," he admits. "I know with every cell in my body that I love you, Hunter. I didn't want to say it earlier and make you think I was just saying it because—"

"I think I love you, too," I rush to reply.

"Think?" he asks, turning the question back on me with the quirk of a brow.

"I've never loved anyone before," I admit, running a now trembling hand through his hair. "My parents' divorce has made me realize that maybe I don't know as much about love as I thought. I always thought love meant staying, sticking around, seeing it through." With the shrug of one shoulder, I give him a soft smile. "My understanding is all jumbled up right now… but I think I love you, too."

"I'm not going anywhere," Greedy swears, leaning up until our lips come together in a tender kiss. "You think about it for as long as you need."