32
Laurel
I sighed and snuggled into the warm sheets, stretching under Dillon’s hand as he caressed my back. I felt his lips on my shoulder and smiled, eyes still closed.
I’d spent the night.
In Dillon’s bed.
In Dillon’s house.
I’d wanted to, Lord knows, I’d wanted to, but I hadn’t wanted to seem presumptuous, so I hadn’t packed a bag when I’d come over the night before. I hadn’t wanted him to think I was making a giant leap in our “relationship.”
Sure, we’d spent the weekend together in Chicago, but that didn’t mean he was ready for sleepovers in his home. That seemed much more personal. More of a serious relationship move. So, I’d come over with only a fresh-baked apple pie, which I knew was his favorite, and hope, that at the very least, we’d have a serious make-out session on hi
