Page 66 of Plus One

Not that Maurice had many references, but he thought Monique was perfect. His hand ached to hold her again, to confirm his hypothesis.

“Just so you know,” she said, leveling him with a look that meant business.

He sat up and gave Monique his undivided attention. At least he tried. There was so much skin. So much of her was within his view—within his reach. Focusing on her face was a good choice, but her eyes made him forget what her lips tasted like. And her lips beckoned him to be reminded.

“I don’t make a habit of opening doors in my draws and humping dudes I barely know.”

He couldn’t pretend like he was following her. Although her eyes were serious, playfulness danced there too. Maurice stood and approached with a surety that he’d try to understand and access later. “Then, I am honored.” He took her hands in his, kissed them, and held her gaze. “Meeting you has changed my life.” He kissed her hands again. “I am forever grateful.”

Monique tried to pull her hands from his grip, but he held on, pulling her closer. “Are you usually this dramatic?”

Dramatic. Him?Maurice shrugged. “I’ve never been in this situation before, so if I’m being dramatic, I ask your forgiveness.” He pressed his mouth to hers again; this time, he felt the smile that played on her lips.

He let her slide her hands from his, and she brought them up to wrap her arms around his neck. Monique brought her hips against his, only to jerk back and pass him a questioning look.

She nodded, glancing down and then raising an eyebrow.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been aroused before meeting Monique, but since meeting her, he’d been nothing but aroused. He’d busted in his pants for probably the first time in his life, but he couldn’t find it in him to be concerned. He’d do it again if given the chance.

His erection had returned, cold, sticky shorts be damned. “I should probably”—he gestured vaguely toward the door—“clean up.”

“Later.” She yawned. “Just stay here with me for a minute.”

He stayed. He let himself feel her warmth against him. He let himself feel her heartbeat under his palm—the rise and fall of her breathing.

“Maurice?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For staying when I asked you to.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She lifted her head and looked at him with something like hope in her eyes. “Promise?”

He wanted to. Wanted to promise he’d stay, he’d figure this out, he’d be what she needed. But the rules were already creeping back in. The voice in his head that never stopped.You stepped too far out of line. This will end badly. You’ll destroy her. You don’t deserve this…

“I promise I’ll try,” he said. It was the most honest thing he could offer.

She laid her head back down. “That’s enough. For now.”

They lay there. Not sleeping, just being.

His eyes started to get heavy. The week had caught up to him and settled on his bones.

“Don’t leave,” she said softly.

“I won’t.”

“Meet me for coffee and pastelillitos in the morning before the day gets crazy?”

He chuckled softly. She was offering him a do-over of their first meeting. “I will.”

They lay there tangled together. Her breathing evened out fast, and she fell asleep. Peaceful, trusting. Her face was soft in the dim light, no guard up, no worry lines. Maurice watched her. Counted her breaths, because he was always counting, as her chest rose and fell against his arm.