Page 34 of Suddenly Yours

And as much as I wanted her—God, I wanted her—I wasn’t going to take advantage of sleepy, not-quite-conscious Missy.

So I gathered her into my arms, lifting her easily. She gave a tiny sound, like a content hum, and her head dropped against my shoulder as if I were the softest pillow she’d ever felt.

“Come on,” I whispered against her hair. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Her room was dim with the balcony curtains drawn shut. But the moonlight glowed softly behind them. I carried her to the bed and lowered her onto the mattress.

But she didn’t let go of me at first.

Her fingers curled into my hair, tugging, trying to pull me down with her.

“Stay,” she said, almost begging.

God. The word hit me dead center.

I braced one hand on the mattress beside her shoulder, leaning down just enough that I could feel the warmth of her breath, her lips still slightly parted from kissing me moments before.

I could have stayed.

I wanted to.

But she was half-asleep, probably a little drunk. Vulnerable. And I was not going to cross that line we’d agreed not to cross unless she was fully awake and fully choosing to do so.

I brushed her cheek with my thumb. Her eyes fluttered open for half a second and I noticed how unfocused they were.

“Go to sleep, Missy,” I murmured.

Her fingers slackened in my hair, and her breathing softened as she melted into the pillow.

I pulled the blanket over her shoulders, forcing myself to step away, every muscle fighting me.

Walking out of that room, leaving her warm and soft and wanting me there beside her, was the hardest damn thing I’d ever done in my life.

I barely slept that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her, barefoot in that robe, sleepy smile, hands tugging at my shirt. I felt her pressed against me. I tasted her on my lips.

Half of me was glad I hadn’t stayed. The other half hated me for it.

By the time the morning sunlight filtered weakly through my curtains, I’d already showered, shaved, and dressed. I even drank one of those tiny, overpriced bottles of coffee concentrate they stocked in the suite’s kitchen, because apparently I’m the kind of guy who needed caffeine to face breakfast with the woman he’d been in love with for the better part of his life.

Missy emerged from her room right when I set my empty cup down.

Her hair was brushed and her eyes were bright, as if she’d just had one of the best nights of sleep in her life. She was wearing a soft pale-yellow sundress with thin straps and cream-colored sandals. Her skin looked warm in the morning light, and her smile hit me square in the chest.

“Morning,” she said cheerfully.

I cleared my throat. “Morning. You, uh… sleep okay?”

She nodded, then winced faintly in confusion. “I think I fell asleep reading. Did you carry me into my room? I don’t remember getting to bed.”

My pulse skipped.

“Yeah,” I said lightly, as if I hadn’t spent half the night replaying it in my head. “I found you in the chair.” I motioned to the spot. “I didn’t want you waking up with a kink in your neck.”

She smiled, warm and grateful, and I forced myself not to stare too long.

“Thanks.” She stretched and walked over to the window. “It’s raining a little.” She turned and shrugged. “Maybe it will let up after breakfast?”