Page 42 of Rescued By Midnight

She nods, her lips turned down thoughtfully. “Okay. Well, thanks, anyway. I appreciate you both.”

I let her walk out of the living room and down the hall. A second later, her bedroom door closes.

Cody and I stare at each other. He raises his eyebrows and looks at the couch where Alice and I slept together.

I shrug, because what the fuck does he want me to say?

Yeah. I slept with her in my arms. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’d do it every fucking day if she let me.

ALICE - NOW

Yesterday, Landon said we’re friends. That he and Cody will help me through things, because that’s what friends do.

Do friends sleep together on a couch? Do friends hold each other like that?

Do friends stare at each other’s lips for long, lingering moments?

They must, because all of that has happened with Landon. Even Cody looked at me a little longer than necessary yesterday, after my strange…spell. Panic attack. Whatever the heck it was.

It’s Sunday. A nightmare about Abe woke me up just before dawn, so I sneak into the kitchen and start opening the fridge and cupboards, looking for things to work with.

Bread. Eggs. Bacon. Cantaloupe.

I get started, moving around the kitchen. It’s the first time I’ve cooked since I got away from Abe. The few days I was with Brayden in our house, I refused to cook. If I was hungry, I’d heat something up or make a sandwich. I don’t know what Brayden did for his meals—I didn’t pay attention. Likely, he went to Jericha’s house or got take-out.

When I think of him at Jericha’s, I feel nothing.

Shouldn’t I feel something? Jealousy? I felt more jealous of Landon and the woman at the Greek restaurant than I do of my husband and Jericha.

The bacon is finished frying, and I’m halfway through cooking the french toast when Cody walks into the kitchen. He’s silent, so I turn to look at him. He’s in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants, looking sleep-rumpled—soft and sexy at the same time. I nearly stutter as I say, “Good morning.”

“Yeah.” He shakes his head as if trying to clear it. “Good morning.”

I try to ignore the way his sweatpants hug his trim waist. Helpless against the visual treat before me, I turn and gesture toward the serving dishes with cantaloupe, bacon, and a pile of finished french toast. “You can help yourself.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

He passes so close behind me, I can feel the heat from his body. No, I must be imagining it—the heat has to be because I’m standing too close to the griddle.

His arm brushes mine when he grabs several slices of toast and piles them on a plate. He picks up a piece of bacon and takes a bite. He moans. “This is perfectly done, Wonderland. Holy shit.”

“Yeah?” I smile, pleased.

“Yeah. Try it.” He holds the bacon toward my lips, a challenge in his eyes like he thinks I won’t accept it.

I take a bite, my tongue rejoicing at the smoky flavor and crisp meat. “Damn, I’m good at this, aren’t I?” I joke.

“You are.” His light brown eyes meet mine, but he isn’t joking—the way he’s staring at me hooks me at the bottom of my belly and loops everything around, tugging and twisting, tethering me to him.

I lean forward. Cody’s gaze flicks to my lips.

“You want this, Wonderland?” His voice sounds rough and lazy.

Yes, I want it. The thought of kissing him, of enjoying his hands on my skin…

He gives me a slow grin. He grabs my shoulders and turns me so my back is to the counter and he’s standing in front of me. “I want it too. Ask me how I know.”

I don’t have to ask. I look down to escape his hypnotic gaze, and I see his hardness pressing against his sweatpants.