I stay awake another twenty before my hand finally stills and my Camdenthing evens out.
The alarm goes off at five-thirty.
I come out of a sleep deeper than I expected to fall into. The room is dark. I am on my side and Benson is wrapped around me from behind — his arm heavy across my waist, his face in the back of my neck, his right leg thrown over mine. I bite my lip, looking down at this large man covering me entirely. He reaches to silence the alarm. His mouth is at the spot below my ear where his scruff scratches the skin, and he kisses me there, slow.
“Morning, Lucy.”
“Morning, Benson.”
He kisses my neck, and I arch into him.
“Lucy,” he warns.
“Mhm,” I answer.
“You’re so soft.”
His hand slides up under the hem of the t-shirt. I turn toward him in the dark. His mouth finds mine, and the kiss is slow at first. His hand is at my waist over bare skin, and his thumb ismoving in slow circles on the side of my ribs. My hand is in his hair. His hand slides up and caresses my Camdenst. I make a sound at the back of my throat.
The kiss stops being quiet.
He is half over me on the mattress now, his weight on his right elbow, his thigh between mine. My hips are rocking, and he’s making a sound against my neck that makes me turn into mush.
When he pulls back, his hair is wrecked. His mouth is wet. “I have to go to practice.”
His hands are running down my body now. “So, get out of bed and get ready.”
“I could skip it.”
“No,” I whisper against his lips. “You’re not allowed to skip.”
He smiles. “I can’t skip, but you’re making it hard to leave the bed.”
“What if I get up first?”
He kisses me one more time, slow enough that the slowness is its own form of restraint. “You stay in bed, baby. I have to get up.” He pulls himself off me in a way that visibly costs him, and he sits on the edge of the bed.
He moves around the room in the dark. I can only half see him in the strip of light from the curtain. He pulls a compression shirt over his head. He pulls on track pants. He sits on the chair by the window to lace his sneakers.
He comes back to the bed and leans over me. He kisses my forehead. He kisses my mouth. “Stay in bed. The boys are gone by seven. Rowan always makes coffee.”
“Okay.”
“Will you come back tonight? I want to see you.”
“I’ll think about it.”
He kisses me. “I’ll see you later, Lucy.”
The bedroom door clicks. His footsteps go down the stairs. I lie in his bed in the dark with my mouth still warm. I pull his pillowagainst my chest. The empty space beside me is the wrong shape. I fall back asleep with the pillow under my chin.
I wake again at eight-twelve. The room is full of light through the gap in the curtain. My phone is on the nightstand. I reach for it.
The screen is full of text messages from Bear.
Bear, 8:54 PM:Where r u?Bear, 8:55 PM:Hello.Bear, 6:55 AM:Lucy.
I type back.
