My voice is muffled against the pillow. “What?”
“Do you know why I’m here?”
I don’t want to know. “I’m hoping it’s because of me.” I don’t want him to tell me it’s not.
I feel him grin against the nape of my neck, his lips damp, his breath warm where it curls beneath my hair. “Now it’s because of you,” he murmurs, “but I didn’t know you yesterday, did I?”
Reluctantly, I shake my head, no, he didn’t.
“Why do you think I stopped here?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Coby, please, I don’t care, okay? It doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t?” he echoes. “You don’t care to know?”
I shake my head again.
With a sigh, he says, “I want to tell you.”
“Does it matter?” I turn in his arms so I can look at him, those silver eyes, that wide mouth. “I mean, really. I don’t care how you found me, okay? Just that you’re here now, that’s it. Okay?”