Page 58 of Yard Sale

“Cook something healthy. Don’t go to McDonald’s every single morning before your aunties get there.”

“I know how to take care of myself,” I said. Not to mention, there wasn’t a McDonald’s on the island. I would have fucked up a hash brown right then if I could have. “Talk soon, okay?”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

I set my phone on the counter and turned, nearly jumping out of my skin the moment my eyes fell on a rumpled, fully naked Tiago. Well, apart from one sock and his knee brace.

His eyes were half-shut, and he had one hand on the wall, and I knew for a fact that he couldn’t see me.

“It’s the offseason, babe. You know you can sleep in, right?”

He sniffed, then shuffled a few steps closer. “I smelled coffee.” He spoke like he was still half-asleep, and hell, maybe he was.

I took another mug down and poured him some, and by the time I was setting the pot back, Tiago was all up in my space. He pressed his body against me, face buried in my neck, arms around my waist. He breathed out, and I could tell he’d brushed his teeth by the sharp, minty scent.

I didn’t mind the cuddling at all. It was something distinctly lacking from all my previous relationships. It was a thing I liked—hell, that I was kind of obsessed with. Even from childhood, I always wanted to be held.

But this wasn’t a relationship, and I wasn’t quite sure Tiago remembered that in his dozing state.

Well, I wasn’t going to be the one who reminded him. I was more than happy to be bossy as fuck in the bedroom. I liked being in control there. But I liked this too. I liked being small enough to disappear in a massive hockey D-man’s sleep-heavy arms.

“Coffee, honey,” I murmured.

His hand darted out, fingers grazing over the counter until he found it. He let each fingertip encircle the rim of the mug, but he didn’t pick it up. He just held me tighter with his free arm and rubbed his nose up and down the tendon in my neck.

I let out breath, then thought fuck it and held him back. He smelled like my bed. Like the hand soap from the bathroom. Like sweat. A bit like come.

A lot like me.

It sent something wild and possessive up my spine. Something that told me if I wasn’t careful, this whole thing was going to destroy me. Because we weren’t together. We were playing a part and getting a little benefit on the side.

And someday, I was going to go home, and so was he. And one day, I’d open up one of my social media apps, and he’d be there. It would be some god-awful press posting an article about how Tiago Nadeau was getting married to a hot supermodel while I was still being set up on bad blind dates by all of my aunties and cousins.

I realized after a moment that while Tiago was still holding me, his breathing had evened out. It was puffing across my neck the same way it had when he was dead asleep. I grazed a touch up and down his spine, but he didn’t move apart from letting out the softest groan.

I should probably wake him. That would be the responsible thing to do. I didn’t know if awake-Tiago would want to be cuddling in my kitchen like this. He didn’t really come across as a snuggly guy.

Though to be fair, I didn’t know what kind of guy he was. I’d met angry Tiago. Nervous Tiago. Hurt Tiago. I’d also gotten to know horny Tiago quite well, and I was starting to see amused Tiago.

And while that sounded like a lot, those were just bits and pieces of the man as a whole. I didn’t know what it was like to live with him. I didn’t know how much of me he’d be able to tolerate when we weren’t fucking each other silly.

He liked the pieces of me I’d shown him too, but—as I had been reminded repeatedly from both Leon and other exes—I really was a lot.

I didn’t know that I could be a good boyfriend to anyone. And even as a temporary, fake boyfriend, I wasn’t sure I was capable of giving Tiago what he needed.

With a breath, I started to pull away from him, and he lifted his head, blinking.

“Hello, sunshine. It’s nice to see you awake.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. That was…something. I think.

“Better than bag of boiled rice?”

My brows dipped. “Uh…what?”

He waved his hand sleepily. “Rice. Need coffee.”