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I felt lighter somehow. Like a weight I didn’t even know I carried was suddenly gone. Vaguely, I wondered what it was, but the thought was fleeting. I was too busy floating along in euphoria, the memory of last night saturating every thought I had.
This morning, a smile played on my lips almost as if it were my resting state. It didn’t seem to matter amnesia cloaked my mind, some faceless person or persons clearly wanted to do me harm, and I was now holed up in a townhouse with five men for safety.
Really, it was the perfect plot for a slasher film. Maybe one where the love interest ends up being the villain and tries to kill the final girl in the end.
Butterflies erupted in my middle, making me feel fluttery. He did call me his final girl.
Except in this movie, Ben could never be the villain.
That mouth, though. Perfectly sinful. The way he wielded his tongue kind of was like a weapon, slaying me with his skill. I was seriously having doubts about my brain. How could it mind-dump something so incredible?
The things he did to me last night still echoed in my limbs this morning. The way it felt as he pulsed and spilled across my tongue kept me so full I didn’t even want breakfast.
Honestly, if I still wasn’t so high on what we shared, I’d be morosely sad at all the intimacy I’d forgotten. How many incredible nights like that did I forget?
And if it was that incredible between us with just hands and mouths… how explosive would we be when we had sex?
Again, how the hell could I forget that? Frankly, it was shameful.
I found his hesitation endearing. The way he worried so much about consent. It was kind of adorable the way he wanted to respect me, how much he clearly cared. The thought of him denying himself after giving me so much I couldn’t bear it. Hearing him moan my name while he was in the shower alone made me bold. Made me want to please him.
I wasn’t sure what was better, feeling his tongue drive into me while I went higher and higher or feeling his hands in my hair as he whispered how good I was for him.
Letting out a faint sound, I pressed my hands against my heated cheeks.
“It’s too early for all that,” I told myself even as I replayed parts in my head again.
After the shower, he didn’t go downstairs to the couch. Instead, he crawled into the bed beside me and opened his arm. I slept tucked against him, under the protection of his arm with the reassurance of his heartbeat beneath my ear.
It was the first night since my accident I didn’t have a nightmare. And I knew it was because he kept them all away.
No, I didn’t remember loving Ben.
But I understood why I did. I felt it deep, swirling inside me, almost like our love was just waiting for me to discover it and put it back in my heart where it belonged.
Funny, this morning, I wondered if it even mattered if I found it because it seemed my heart was filling on its own just fine. I guess I didn’t need to remember that I loved him because it was instinct.
His alarm went off at an ungodly hour, the sun not even awake yet in the sky. When he tried to slide out from beneath me, I clung, whimpering in protest.
The sheets whispered softly when he came back, fitting himself exactly where he’d been. Exactly where I liked him best. I sighed and felt his hand cup my head, his honed body shifting slightly closer to mine. His lips kissed my forehead, his morning breath warm against my hair. I loved the way his arm flexed around me as he pulled me even closer into his chest.
“You mean so much to me,” he whispered. “So damn much.”
My palm slid over his middle, curling around his waist.
He made a sound, kissed my head again, then slowly started to withdraw. “I have practice, baby,” he murmured. “I have to go.”
My hand dropped in the space he’d just occupied, and I pressed it into his remaining body heat. “Stay,” I said sleepily.
A pained sound floated overhead, and then the quiet room filled with the rustle of clothes and the zip of a bag. The mattress dipped, and I cracked one eye to see his knee on the edge. He smelled of chlorine when he leaned over me, my eye fluttering closed once more.
“Be a good girl while I’m gone. I’ll be back in a little while to take you to breakfast.” This time his lips brushed my cheek, and it made me smile.
Before he could go, I reached for him, turning my face to blink at him through sleep-drenched eyes. “Bye, Benji.”
He made a sound. “Too damn pretty for your own good,” he murmured then brushed his lips over mine. “I love you.” He whispered the words right into my mouth, and I swallowed them down.
He left, and I lay there in a state of languid relaxation, the fluttering of my heart untamed. Ultimately, I was too aroused to sleep. It seemed I needed his comforting body beside me for that. Instead, I lingered in the warm sheets that bore his scent until the need for the bathroom forced me out.
