End Game

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Aurora

I woke to the rustle of Nate beside me, his arm thrown loose over my waist. For a second I pretended to sleep just to savor the warmth, but then his lips grazed my temple and I couldn't hold the smile in.

"Caught you," he murmured, voice low and still thick with sleep.

One eye cracked open. "Caught me doing what?"

"Smiling. Which means you're awake." His hand moved to tickle my side and I squirmed, laughing as I tried to snatch his wrist.

"Stop. I'm defenseless!"

He leaned in, face inches from mine. "You're a terrible liar, you know. I could tell you were awake the moment I moved."

"Oh really? What gave me away—my breathing? My aura?" I shot back, all sarcasm.

He chuckled, the expression that always made my stomach do a small flip. "No—your grin. You do that little smirk when you're trying not to laugh. It's cute."

I rolled my eyes but the glow in my chest got brighter. "Cute, huh? I thought I was an enigma."

"Maybe a little," he said, pretending to weigh it. "Mostly cute."

He kissed me then—soft and deliberate—and when he pulled away I felt dizzy in the best possible way.

"Well," I said, trying to sound composed, "good morning to you, too."

"Good morning." He grinned. "You sleep okay?"

"Better than okay." My cheeks warmed. "You?"

"Best sleep I've had in a while." He brushed a stray hair from my face. "You were right about the silk sheets. Having you here doesn't hurt either."

I'd bought the sheets a few days earlier as a small indulgence; now they felt like part of our ritual—another quiet excuse to stay tangled together. I bit my lip to hide the grin that threatened to take over.

"You're laying it on thick this morning, huh?" I teased.

"Maybe." He nuzzled my neck; his scruff tickled and I squealed. "But it's working, isn't it?"

"Maybe," I echoed, matching his mischief.

He propped himself on one elbow. "So—I've got something special planned for us today."

"Special?" I arched an eyebrow. "You're not going to make me run football drills or something, are you?"

He laughed. "No drills. Promise. Just trust me—you're gonna love it."

His excitement was contagious and I found myself nodding. "Okay, fine. But only because you look ridiculously smug right now."

"Smug? I prefer confident." He stole a quick kiss and rolled out of bed. "C'mon, lazy. Get up—we've got a big day."

Sunlight sliced through the blinds as he stood, and I watched him move—easy, sure, everything about him fluid. My eyes drifted down and, against my will, I smiled harder. His back was broad and strong, shoulders shifting under skin, the subtle dip of his waist leading to the curve of his hips. He reached for a shirt, and for a beat I simply stared.

He caught me and winked. "You're staring."

"Maybe," I admitted, playful. "But it's working, isn't it?"

He laughed and lobbed me a pillow. "Hurry up and get dressed before I change my mind and keep you here all day."

I couldn't stop smiling. Whatever his plan, I wanted it.