CHAPTER SIX

      As Ty gazed at me, his nostrils flared and his breath came faster. His brown eyes had a sleepy, hooded look. I knew he wanted to kiss me, despite all the sound reasons he’d just listed why it could never happen.

      “There are no rules against it,” he said huskily.

      What? Looking.

      It was really hard to think with his face so close, but I couldn’t make myself pull back. So I did the only reasonable thing; I put my arms around him. When I leaned into him, he let go of my face and cradled me against his chest. His heat and solid strength sent a delicious shock through me, and he didn’t help matters by rubbing his cheek against my head.

      It’s a hug. Friends hug.

      There was no way I could resist touching his hair, now that I finally had him so close, and it slipped through my fingers like coppery satin. He let out a little groan and leaned into my hands. Encouraged, I stroked in gentle little swoops, until he was practically purring.

      “You’re a ginger tabby,” I teased as he turned, so I could reach the other side.

      “Please,” he mumbled. “I’m totally a battle-scarred tom.”

      He nuzzled his face against my neck, making my pulse jump. This was a misty gray area because he was definitely turning me on with the rasp of his scruff against the tender skin of my throat. But his heartbeat was slowing. Getting comfortable, I kicked off my shoes, and Ty, who wasn’t wearing any, ended up sprawled in my lap, and he closed his eyes as I brushed the hair from his brow in rhythmic strokes.

      “Whatever.” I couldn’t believe I was in his apartment, cuddling him.

      It wasn’t what I wanted but it was better than nothing. It would have to be enough. “This okay?” I asked, just to be sure.

      “Better than. Don’t stop.”

      Featherlight, I traced the slight arch of his nose, the plane of his cheekbone down to his jaw, around his mouth and over the bristled jut of his chin, which he lifted to give me better access. Eyes closed, he was smiling with an expression that registered as pure bliss. I’d swear he was starved for physical contact, let alone sex.

      “Can I ask a personal question?”

      “This is probably the best time.” Dreamy tone.

      “How long’s it been?”

      His gold-tipped lashes fluttered, revealing brown eyes that focused intently on my face. “Since I got laid?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Couple of months.”

      That wasn’t as long as I expected, the way he was reacting. “Huh.”

      “Did you think I’ve been celibate for years or something?”

      “Maybe.”

      “Disappointed?”

      “Why would I be?” I smiled down at him.

      “Sometimes girls romanticize the situation. ‘Poor Ty, if only he had a woman giving it to him regular and helping with Sam, his life wouldn’t be such a black hole of suck.’” He lifted one shoulder in a lazy half shrug and demanded, “Ears.”

      I was only half-sure what he wanted, so I rubbed up and down the shell, gently, with thumb and forefinger. “Like that?”

      He hissed out a breath when I scraped my fingernails behind them. “Exactly.”

      It might be wrong, but I secretly hoped this was turning him on a fraction as much as me. Even the weight of his head in my lap felt like foreplay, but I didn’t roll my hips. Ears are sensitive. Wonder what lips, teeth and tongue would do to him. I swallowed hard and went back to running my fingers through his hair. It seemed safer. The party was still going strong, and it was only eleven. I might have several good hours of Ty-petting left.

      “I hope you don’t think I see you that way,” I said.

      “Hmm?”

      “The ‘black hole of suck’ thing.”

      “Nah. You don’t give off the fix Ty vibe. If you did, I’d be avoiding you like the plague, not hanging out on a Saturday night.” He sounded relaxed, sleepy even. “Though I have no idea what’s in it for you.”

      “I like you,” I said softly.

      You have no idea how much.

      “You’re crazy. Didn’t you hear the grumpy asshole part earlier?”

      “Maybe you save that for other people.” I decided to get creative and scooped my hands beneath his head, like I’d seen masseuses do on TV. Since I had no training, I couldn’t be sure what I was supposed to be doing, but I flexed my palms and rubbed the heels of my hands against the base of his skull. Ty arched his neck, lifting his chin until I heard a faint pop.

      He groaned. “God. You’re so good, I’d pay you.”

      “First I’m a barbiturate and now—”

      “You really should’ve hit me by now.” Ty flung an arm across his face, cheeks flushed.

      “I’ll snuggle you into submission.”

      “It’s working.”

      “What else do you miss? Besides the music scene.”

      He turned his head side to side, increasing the pressure until I was worried about hurting him, and it reminded me of how he’d dug his knuckles into the back of his head. This had to be my unconscious responding to that moment, wanting to make him feel better. From the way he was smiling, it seemed to be doing the trick.

      “How honest am I supposed to be?”

      “Completely. I won’t tell.”

      “You want me to bare my soul, huh?”

      I want you to take off your pants. But I’ll settle for deep, meaningful conversation. I was only half kidding, even in my head, but Ty’s friendship felt rare and precious, a leap of faith