Page 62 of Beautiful Killer

When we got to my place, he sat me on the couch and warmed up the chicken soup he’d bought me before he picked me up. Chicken soup. Now he was being sweet as well as confusing. The man was killing me. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Once I finished eating, he lifted me off the couch then he lay back, taking me with him, curling me into his side. He flicked on the TV.

We were snuggling.

On the couch.

Watching TV.

Did he have any idea what he was doing to me with this? I was strong, but not that strong. Not when the man I’d realized I was in love with, the same man I couldn’t have because he’d made it clear he wasn’t in this for anything permanent, was cuddling me, after all the other sweet things he’d done for me that afternoon.

God, after staring down at a positive pregnancy test a few short hours earlier.

I could not deal.

Still, I stayed put. Because I couldn’t make myself get up, either. It felt too good right where I was. I’d just lay with him for half an hour, then I’d make an excuse and get the hell off this couch.

I woke three hours later, in my bed, Zeke pressed in close behind me.

So much for my plan, and I was too tired to even attempt to put distance between us.

I’d be strong tomorrow.