Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars #6)(84)

He still hadn’t come downstairs. She wondered if he’d spotted her old Tippy Tumbles doll propped on the bureau. Even worse, what about the sex toy catalog that she hadn’t gotten around to throwing away? She rushed up the stairs.

He lay on her bed, fully dressed except for his shoes, and sound asleep.

His lips were slightly parted, and his ankles, clad in plain black socks, crossed. One hand rested on his chest. The other lay at his side, next to the scrap of pink bra peeking from under his hip. It nested by his fingertips, not quite touching them, but close enough to make her queasy. Call her crazy, but she couldn’t stand seeing abandoned lingerie anywhere near him.

A floorboard squeaked as she tiptoed to the bed. Slowly, carefully, she snagged the bra strap and tugged.

It didn’t budge.

He expelled a little puff of air. This was nuts. She felt vulnerable enough as it was. She should go away and let him sleep. But she tugged again.

He rolled toward her, onto his side, trapping all but a loop of lacy strap under his hip.

She started to perspire. She knew this was insane, but she couldn’t make herself walk away. Another floorboard creaked as she knelt at the side of the bed, the same floorboard that creaked every time she stepped on it, so she should have been more careful. Her heart was pounding. She pressed down on the mattress with one hand and slipped her finger through the loop of strap sticking out from under his hip with the other. She pulled hard.

One heavy eyelid drifted open, and his sleep-rusty voice made her jump. “Either get in here with me or go away.”

“This is”—she pulled a little harder—“my bed.”

“I know. I’m resting.”

He didn’t look like he was resting. He looked like he’d settled in for the night. With her underwear. Which refused to budge. “Could I…”

“I’m dead on my feet.” His eyes drifted shut. “You can have your bed back in the morning. Promise.” His voice faded on a slur.

“Okay, but…”

“Go ’way,” he muttered.

“I will. First, though, would you mind—”

He rolled to his back again, which should have freed the bra but didn’t. Instead, it wedged between his hip and hand.

“I, uh, need one little thing. Then I won’t bother you any—”

His fingers clamped her wrist, and this time when his lids opened, his eyes were completely focused. “What do you want?”

“My bra back.”

He lifted his head and glanced to his side, still holding her wrist. “Why?”

“I’m a neat freak. Messy rooms drive me crazy.” She yanked hard and jerked it free.

Heath gazed at the bra dangling from her fingers. “Are you going somewhere tonight?”

“No, I—” She’d awakened the sleeping lion for sure, and she wadded the bra in her hands, trying to make it invisible. “Go back to sleep. I’ll take Nana’s bed.”

“I’m awake now.” He propped himself on his elbows. “Usually I can see through your latest craziness, but I have to say, this time you’ve got me stumped.”

“Just forget it.”

“One thing I do know…” He nodded toward her hand. “This isn’t about a bra.”

“That’s what you think.” She scowled at him. “Until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes, don’t judge.”

“Judge what?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I spend most of my life around football players. You’d be surprised how many weird things I understand.”

“Not this weird.”

“Try me.”

The stubborn set of his mouth told her he wasn’t going to let this go, and she had no explanation but the truth. “I can’t stand seeing…” She swallowed and licked her lips. “It’s hard for me to see…uh…female lingerie too near a man’s hand. That is…when the lingerie isn’t actually on a female body.”

He groaned and sank back into her pillows. “Oh, my God. Don’t tell me.”

“It upsets me.” Which was putting it mildly.

She knew he’d laugh, and he did, a big sound that bounced around the attic’s odd angles.

She stared him down.

He threw his feet over the side of the bed. “You’re afraid I’m going to start cross-dressing?”

Hearing it spoken aloud made her wince. How had she lived to be thirty-one years old without someone locking her up? “Not afraid exactly. But …The thing is…Why expose yourself to temptation?”

He loved that.

She understood his amusement—she’d be amused herself if she were him—but she couldn’t find a smile anywhere. Dispirited, she turned back toward the stairs. His laughter faded, and another floorboard creaked as he came up behind her. He set his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, you really are upset, aren’t you?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry. I spend too much time in locker rooms. I won’t tease you anymore. I promise.”

His sympathy was worse than his teasing, but she turned into his chest all the same. He stroked her hair, and she told herself to back away, but she felt as though she belonged exactly where she was. And then she grew aware of the powerful erection pressing against her body.