Free Hitched (Imperfect Love Book 1) by Kendall Ryan Page A
Authors: Kendall Ryan
Her voice is filled with surprise.
I swallow. “Of course. I’ll take the couch.”
Our gazes drift together from the modern, stylish tweed sofa in the living room to the massive king-sized bed down the hall dressed in fluffy down, and back to the couch again. There’s no way my six-foot-two-inch frame will even fit on that couch.
“You know what?” Olivia says brightly. “We’re two grown adults. It’s a huge bed. We can manage sharing it, right?”
“I’ll be a pussycat.” I grin at her.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she murmurs.
Chapter Ten
Olivia
I let Noah take the bathroom to brush his teeth first. We haven’t yet reached the level of familiarity required for me to watch another human being spit into the sink. Meanwhile, I take the bedroom to change into my favorite fleecy pajamas.
When I emerge, Noah is leaning against the wall outside the bathroom door. He cocks his head with an amused smile that stops me in my tracks.
“What?” I ask after a minute.
His eyes crinkle at the edges. “Nothing. You just look cute.”
Cute? My cheeks turn pink as the word fizzes down through my stomach. I suddenly feel self-conscious about having little lavender butterflies printed all over me. Somehow I hadn’t expected Noah to have an opinion on my pajamas. Or, if he did, that he would tease me about them. Not say sweet things that make me temporarily forget how to talk.
“Where are your pajamas?” I ask, shrugging off the bubbly feeling.
His smile quirks with mischief. “Well, usually I sleep in the nude—”
Of course you do. Why am I not surprised?
“Not anymore you don’t,” I say quickly, interrupting him. “Find some sweatpants or something.” As we trade places, passing in the hallway, I add over my shoulder, “And that better include a shirt!”
The sight of Noah’s sculpted six-pack while I’m still getting comfortable with the idea of sharing an apartment with him—let alone a bed? No way I’d survive that.
When I’m almost done brushing my teeth, he calls out from the bedroom. “Hey, Snowflake? Since we’re spending the night together, would you be interested in taking our first test drive?”
My heart jumps into my throat. It slows down a little—but only a little—when I realize he’s talking about our make-out idea. Jeez . . . give the guy an inch and he starts asking for a mile.
Surprisingly, though, I don’t feel a speck of reluctance about kissing Noah. Only curiosity, a flush of warmth, a flutter of nervous excitement. But then again, our agreement is strictly limited to necking like a couple of shy high-schoolers, which we’ve technically already done seven years ago. And there’s no reason to reevaluate my stance against casual sex—what I have planned is a long way from home base. The thought is both a huge relief and a tiny bit disappointing.
“Sure,” I answer him finally, trying to sound nonchalant. I was the one who proposed we try it, after all. Although I assumed it would be a little further in the future. But tonight is as good a time as any.
At last, the moment of truth arrives. Swallowing hard, I pull back the covers, sit down, and slide underneath. The linens rustle as Noah does the same on the bed’s other side.
I can hear him move and breathe. I’m attuned to every tiny sound, hyperaware of how close he is to me.
It’s been so long since I slept in the same room with another person, let alone the same bed. And this is nothing like bunking with my sister or Camryn. My new bedmate is a man. A very handsome man who has made it extremely clear that he wants to fuck my brains out with his huge dick. We’re only sleeping together, not sleeping together, but still . . . I’m sharing a bed with Noah Fucking Tate. And I’m about thirty seconds away from kissing him.
An odd fluttery energy washes over me—nervousness and excitement mix until I can’t tell them apart. I feel a sudden shy urge to withdraw to my side of the bed
I swallow. “Of course. I’ll take the couch.”
Our gazes drift together from the modern, stylish tweed sofa in the living room to the massive king-sized bed down the hall dressed in fluffy down, and back to the couch again. There’s no way my six-foot-two-inch frame will even fit on that couch.
“You know what?” Olivia says brightly. “We’re two grown adults. It’s a huge bed. We can manage sharing it, right?”
“I’ll be a pussycat.” I grin at her.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she murmurs.
Chapter Ten
Olivia
I let Noah take the bathroom to brush his teeth first. We haven’t yet reached the level of familiarity required for me to watch another human being spit into the sink. Meanwhile, I take the bedroom to change into my favorite fleecy pajamas.
When I emerge, Noah is leaning against the wall outside the bathroom door. He cocks his head with an amused smile that stops me in my tracks.
“What?” I ask after a minute.
His eyes crinkle at the edges. “Nothing. You just look cute.”
Cute? My cheeks turn pink as the word fizzes down through my stomach. I suddenly feel self-conscious about having little lavender butterflies printed all over me. Somehow I hadn’t expected Noah to have an opinion on my pajamas. Or, if he did, that he would tease me about them. Not say sweet things that make me temporarily forget how to talk.
“Where are your pajamas?” I ask, shrugging off the bubbly feeling.
His smile quirks with mischief. “Well, usually I sleep in the nude—”
Of course you do. Why am I not surprised?
“Not anymore you don’t,” I say quickly, interrupting him. “Find some sweatpants or something.” As we trade places, passing in the hallway, I add over my shoulder, “And that better include a shirt!”
The sight of Noah’s sculpted six-pack while I’m still getting comfortable with the idea of sharing an apartment with him—let alone a bed? No way I’d survive that.
When I’m almost done brushing my teeth, he calls out from the bedroom. “Hey, Snowflake? Since we’re spending the night together, would you be interested in taking our first test drive?”
My heart jumps into my throat. It slows down a little—but only a little—when I realize he’s talking about our make-out idea. Jeez . . . give the guy an inch and he starts asking for a mile.
Surprisingly, though, I don’t feel a speck of reluctance about kissing Noah. Only curiosity, a flush of warmth, a flutter of nervous excitement. But then again, our agreement is strictly limited to necking like a couple of shy high-schoolers, which we’ve technically already done seven years ago. And there’s no reason to reevaluate my stance against casual sex—what I have planned is a long way from home base. The thought is both a huge relief and a tiny bit disappointing.
“Sure,” I answer him finally, trying to sound nonchalant. I was the one who proposed we try it, after all. Although I assumed it would be a little further in the future. But tonight is as good a time as any.
At last, the moment of truth arrives. Swallowing hard, I pull back the covers, sit down, and slide underneath. The linens rustle as Noah does the same on the bed’s other side.
I can hear him move and breathe. I’m attuned to every tiny sound, hyperaware of how close he is to me.
It’s been so long since I slept in the same room with another person, let alone the same bed. And this is nothing like bunking with my sister or Camryn. My new bedmate is a man. A very handsome man who has made it extremely clear that he wants to fuck my brains out with his huge dick. We’re only sleeping together, not sleeping together, but still . . . I’m sharing a bed with Noah Fucking Tate. And I’m about thirty seconds away from kissing him.
An odd fluttery energy washes over me—nervousness and excitement mix until I can’t tell them apart. I feel a sudden shy urge to withdraw to my side of the bed