“What is that?” Hayden demands when she comes out of the shower. This probably won’t go easy, but nothing ventured, nothing gained at this point.

“Pillows,” I tell her trying to act like I have no idea why she’s upset. I put my hands behind my head and wait. I’m also trying to act like my dick isn’t pushing against the fabric of the gym pants I changed into. Lying here in Hayden’s bed, her sheets heavy with the aroma of vanilla and sugar—smelling like her—has my balls so tight I could come at the slightest touch.

“I know they’re pillows, Michael. What I don’t understand is why you have so many of them on my bed.”

“There’s not a lot of them. I was only able to find nine.”

“Nine is a lot of pillows, Michael. Wait…where are my pillowcases?”

Hayden is towel drying her hair, running the towel through her darkened tresses, in a way that makes me wish it was my fingers. She’s wearing a long night shirt this time that comes way below the knee and is long-sleeved. It’s a pale blue color with a giant bear in pajamas emblazoned on it, underneath it says, “Dreamer.” It’s adorably cute and a hundred percent Hayden. Jan would have never been caught dead in something like that. She had an entire closet full of expensive, lacy, shit and none of it was half as sexy as Hayden’s nightshirt. Then again, it’s all about the woman wearing it.

“You said Stroker slept in that spare room,” I shrug, distracted because I’m wishing her shirt was shorter.

“So?” she asks, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“The fabric stunk of his cologne. He’s not getting in this bed, Hayden—in any way. I put them in the washer.”

“He’s not…You put them in…” she shakes her head back and forth as if she can’t believe it. Maybe I went overboard, but I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want that fucker here—not even his memory. “You know you’re certifiably insane don’t you?” she grumbles, and in answer I grunt. “Why are all the pillows on my bed?”

“Your floor is cold.”

“What?”

“And hard.”

“I don’t think I’m following you.”

“You want me to rest. I can’t rest on the floor and you’re right. I am tired. So, I came up with an alternate plan.”

“An alternate plan?”

“I’ll sleep here with you, on the bed, but I won’t touch you. Instead we’ll have a wall between us.”

“A wall?” she asks and it might be wishful thinking, but I think I see a smile starting to form.

“Yeah.”

“A wall of…pillows.”

“That’s the idea.”

“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d argue with you, but we have maybe an hour until daylight and I’m exhausted,” she says and the ghost of a smile is gone. Now, I see nothing weariness.

“Come sleep, Beauty. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Michael…I’m not sure this is a good idea…”

“I won’t touch you. I promise all we’ll do is sleep. You’ll be safe on your side of the pillows,” I assure her, carefully keeping on my side to disguise my rock-hard cock. If she saw that she really would be worried.

“I’m going to have to buy more pillows tomorrow,” she mutters under her breath, but it makes me smile. Then, she slides into her side of the bed, reaches over and turns out the lamp. She turns over giving me her back. I thought this would make me feel better, but right now it’s just a reminder of what I used to have and pushed away. I let her see a glimpse of me earlier. She’s still here, and unless I’m deceiving myself, she’s not as closed off. Maybe she can handle all the twisted mess inside of me. For the first time in months, I’m hopeful. I roll over so my back is to her too. Maybe if I don’t see her, I might be able to resist touching her. Maybe.

“I don’t think I like your game, Michael. You got your way all the way around. You were supposed to give me what I wanted and I think you got what you wanted. Seems you still owe me.”

“I think that’s where you got it wrong, Beauty.”

“How’s that? You’re in my bed, and you’re still calling me Beauty.”

“Yeah, but if I had my way, there would be no fucking pillows right now, Hayden. There would be you in my arms and me between your legs, buried inside of you.” I’ve probably said too much. I need to rein it in, but I figure I might as well be honest with her.

I hear her soft exhale of breath. I feel the bed move as she moves. Covers pull in her direction as she seems to burrow under them. I figure she’s going to ignore what I said, and that’s okay—for now.

“I’m pregnant Michael. Extremely pregnant. I don’t think that’s possible right now,” she whispers.

“Trust me, Beauty. I’d find a way,” I grin.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

“Night, Hayden,” I respond and when I close my eyes…I’m still smiling.