Maybe Not (Maybe #1.5)(32)

She wraps her hands in my hair and rolls me onto my back, still with her lips pressed to mine. I open my eyes and she backs away from my mouth, still smiling. She begins to shake her head in slow disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m in love with such a stupid, stupid *.”

I’m not sure this sentence could mean more to any other man in the world.

“I love you, Warren.”

I can’t even tell her I love her back, because hearing those words come out of her mouth has left me completely speechless. But I don’t think she cares, because her lips are on mine so hard and fast, I wouldn’t be able to speak anyway.

I’m in love with Bridgette.

Bridgette is in love with me.

All is finally right in the world.

We continue to kiss while we remove each other’s clothes. Neither one of us is in control this time. She makes love to me at the same time I make love to her, and no one is in charge. No one is calling the shots. It’s completely equal now. She feels about me how I feel about her and when we’re finished, she whispers, “I love you, Warren.”

And I say, “I love you, Bridgette.”

And no one argues.

She lies peacefully in my arms and doesn’t try to kick me out of her bed. Just the thought of having to go back to my room and sleep alone seems ridiculous and I’m not sure I ever want to sleep alone again.

I stroke her arm with my fingers. “I have an idea,” I whisper against her hair.

She shakes her head. “I’m not doing anal.”

I laugh and pull back. “What? No. Not that. Not yet, anyway.” I push her off of me and sit up, pulling her to a seated position. I take both of her hands in mine, and I look her very seriously in the eyes. “I think we should move in together.”

Her eyes widen in shock and she’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. “We already live together, dumbass. And we hardly have to pay rent. We’d be broke if we got our own place.”

I dismiss her concerns with a shake of my head. “I don’t mean into a new apartment. Move into my bedroom with me. We’re together every night anyway.”

She’s still shaking her head. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because,” I say to her, brushing her hair behind her ear. “It’s romantic.”

“No, Warren, it’s dumb.”

I fall back onto the bed, frustrated. She drops to my side and glares down at me. “Why would I want to move all my clothes into your tiny closet? That’s so stupid. I have way too much closet stuff.”

“Fine,” I tell her. “You can keep all your clothes in your own closet, but move everything else into my room.”

She drops her forehead to my chest. “I don’t have any other stuff. I have a bed. That’s it.”

I tuck my finger under her chin and lift her eyes to mine. “Exactly. Move your bed to my room. We both have full-size beds. Putting them together would be like having a King, and we’d have more room to have sex, and when we’re finished you can roll over to your side of the bed and I can watch you sleep.”

She considers my proposal for several quiet moments, and then smiles. “This is so dumb.”

I sit up and pull her off the bed. “And romantic. Come on, get dressed. I’ll help you.”

We put our clothes back on and begin tossing the blankets and pillows off her bed. We lift the mattress and begin scooting it out the door, into the living room, and toward my room. Ridge and Brennan are both sitting on the couch, staring at us.

“What the hell are you doing?” Brennan asks.

I press my hip against the mattress so I can sign back to them. “Bridgette and I are moving in together.”

Ridge and Brennan look at each other, then back at me. “But . . . you already live together,” Brennan says.

I dismiss them with a wave of my hand, and we finish moving Bridgette’s mattress next to mine. Once her bed is remade, she falls onto hers and I onto mine. We roll until we’re facing each other. She rests her head on her arm and sighs.

“We’ve lived together for two minutes, and I’m already sick of your face.”

I laugh. “I think you should move out. We got along so much better before this.”

She flips me off, so I grab her hand and link my fingers through hers. “I need to ask you something else.”

She falls onto her back. “So help me God, Warren, if you ask me to marry you I’ll cut your nuts off.”

“I don’t want to marry you,” I say. “Yet. But . . .”

I crawl over to her part of our home and lie next to her. “Will you go on a date with me?”

She looks away from me and stares up at the ceiling. “Oh, my God,” she whispers. “We’ve never been on a date before?”

“Not a real one.”

She slaps a hand to her forehead. “I’m such a whore. I already moved in with you and we haven’t even been on a date?”

“You’re not a whore,” I say to her with mock reassurance. “We haven’t even had sex . . . oh, wait.” I grimace. “You are such a whore. A huge, slutty whore who wants me to try anal with her tonight.”

She laughs and shoves me in the chest.

I shove her back.

She shoves me harder.