"I can't believe you're taking a nap without me."
Twisting in bed, I forced my eyes open, alarmed at the sight of Jameson Winchester Hawthorne. I knew there were several passages into my bedroom, but I'd figured the boy would leave me alone for at least an hour.
Apparently, that was a mistake.
"I thought you didn't sleep," I mumbled, forcing myself upright.
"I don't during the night." He smirked lightly, oh-so-confident that I'd just allow him to sleep in my bed. "But I make exceptions during the day."
"For me?"
He grinned. "I always knew you were brilliant."
"Go away," I muttered, pulling the sheets up to my neck. The worst part was that I was wearing his t-shirt, and the last thing I wanted was to get teased for my pajamas.
"I will after we sleep."
"Jameson," I said, crossing my arms. "You don't think it's impolite to break into a girl's bedroom?"
"I'd say it's perfectly polite, considering the girl belongs to me." He winked, heading closer to my bed. I hugged the sheets to my neck once more and he smiled. "Plus, she prefers me in here anyways."
"You can't prove that," I argued.
"I'd say your smile is evidence enough." He stepped closer and ran his thumb softly over my lips. "And that little blush you're trying to hide is curtesy of me."
"Don't flatter yourself."
His lips twitched with a crooked grin. "Would you prefer to flatter me instead?"
"I'd prefer to get some sleep, actually — alone."
"That's too bad."
Jameson sat on the edge of my bed, running a hand through my hair. My body craved his touch; as he traced a finger up my spine my back arced in pleasure.
My breath was heavy by then, but Jameson didn't seem to notice. He just rested his hand on my waist and turned my body to face him. Now that he was closer, I noticed his attire: plaid pajama bottoms and an old white shirt.
"You know," he murmured, his fingers straying to my chin, "you're such a thief. First my shirt," he said, tugging on the hem of my makeshift nightgown, "and then my heart."
"You're not getting either back," I warned — mostly on behalf of his shirt.
"I don't want them back." Jameson laid his fingers softly on my cheek. "All I want is for you to roll over and let me hold you."
My heartbeats began chasing each other at his closeness.
"Look," Jameson murmured, still teasing me with his touch, "I know you didn't sleep last night, so I need you to get some now."
"Having you here isn't going to change that."
Smirking, Jameson laid down beside me, his arms reaching for me. "I guess we'll see about that."
"Will you shut up?"
"Kisses always do the trick, if you're interested."
"I'm not."
"Liar." Before I could growl, the Hawthorne boy turned me in for a kiss.
I sunk into it and didn't realize I had until Jameson pulled away. I wanted more. He could tell, obviously, but he wasn't going to provide my desire until I received his wishes on my behalf.
I pretended to hate it, but I really loved that he cared. There were his other brothers, who cared about the trivial details of my life.
But Jameson?
Rather than my circumstances, he cared about me.
And he wasn't afraid to show it.
Which was why, when he pulled me in to whisper "Close your eyes," I didn't argue.
Instead, I fell into a deep, blissful sleep.
