She rolls her eyes and shucks off her denim jacket. “Unless you mean something like draw a penis on your face with permanent marker, then no, you’re safe.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
She sits down on the right side of the bed.
“You’ve done that out of spite, haven’t you?”
“Let’s just say that at home, my shit is on the left bedside table.”
“Of course.” I sigh as I rip my shirt off and leave it in the hamper. My T-shirt is next, leaving me in just my pants. I hear a small gasp behind me and I still.
It’s not that I’ve forgotten that Oakleigh is here, it’s more that being modest as I change hadn’t really occurred to me. Oakleigh’s presence has always comforted me, always made me think that I can be whatever or whoever I need to be. I just wish I’d remembered that before I ruined our date.
I turn back to face her and what I see halts my plans immediately. She looks exhausted. I’m not surprised since she’s been working like crazy over the past couple of weeks. My plan was to pick up exactly where we left off earlier. I never leave a woman feeling unsatisfied, and we were interrupted. I planned to have her begging me for more and moaning my name enough that it’s the only thing she remembers how to say. But as I watch her now, her eyes are opening and closing very slowly, her head lowering a little before she snaps it up again. The shadows under her eyes are becoming prominent.
My woman needs to rest.
“You’ve got two options,” I tell her, kneeling in front of her and placing my hands on her thighs. “We can either pick up where we left off and you fall asleep straight after a mind-blowing orgasm.” Oakleigh sends me a look of disbelief. “Or, we get into bed and get some rest and pick that particular activity back up when you can remember what day it is.”
I want to kiss that guilty smile off her face when she says, “Is it really selfish if I say I want to go to sleep?”
I reach up to leave a soft kiss on her temple. “Not in the slightest.”
Usually, I strip completely, ridding myself of the pants and the underwear so they can be replaced by pajama pants, but I think that if I do that, she might freak out. So, instead, I grab a clean pair of pants and head toward the door.
“I’m just going to change into these. I’ll be a minute.”
“You scared I’ll want to jump your bones if I see your briefs, Southwick?” Oakleigh attempts to smirk, but it’s strained, forced.
“You jump my bones any time you want, Michaels. But I was more going into the bathroom because the briefs don’t typically accompany me to bed.”
Her smirk falters and her eyes widen. It slides off her face and transfers to mine because her reaction was causing no other response than a smirk of my own. I head into my en suite bathroom and shut the door behind me. I don’t bother locking it.
It takes me all of a minute to change from my beige pants and underwear into the red checkered pants that I sleep in.
I head out of the bathroom and straight to my wardrobe. The black T-shirt that I pull out for Oakleigh hits her square in the face. She whips it off her face and sends me a deadly glare.
“Oops,” I say innocently, a playful shrug rubbing salt further into the wound.
I hear her mumble something about me being an asshole as she storms her way over to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I hop into the left side of the bed and wait for her to come back.
My mind reels as I try and think about what to do while we’re in this position. We have to share a bed, that much is clear. She’s not sleeping on the floor, and frankly speaking, neither am I. Even if Wren was to knock, that’s nowhere near enough warning for me to clean up everything on the floor and hop into bed like I’ve been there all night. So, like an adult, I will sleep next to my girlfriend and be grateful for this chance. If Oakleigh decides that something more is what she wants, then like a dutiful boyfriend, I’ll provide it. I won’t push and I won’t bring it up.
I lean across the bed to pick up the drawings I’ve been working on for the house. Even though I’ve sent off the plans for planning permission, my mind has still been going nonstop. It’s been a tape with no pause button and I’m not sure I even want it to stop. I’ve been loving this long, creative streak I’ve been on. Usually, creativity is like holding water in your hands, serves a purpose while you have it, but it does slip through your fingers no matter how hard you try. But you can always refill it, sometimes it just takes longer.
I’ve been loving drawing. It’s been a release whenever I need it; a welcome distraction. Instead of needing to refill my creative energy, I’ve been almost unable to empty it. It makes me wonder what more I can do. What else can I imagine? What can I surprise myself by doing? Can I draw something risky? Bold? Daring?
“What are you working on?”
I didn’t even hear Oakleigh come back in.
I rub out a small mistake in the top corner. “Some sketches I’ve been working on.”
“For your house?”
“Mmm.”
She climbs into bed beside me and her warmth wraps around my legs, through the fabric of my pajamas. She moves in close so she can look over my shoulder. I feel her soft breaths fan over my bare shoulder and the sensation travels throughout my whole body. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping I can control myself enough to not turn my head and get a better whiff of whatever the fuck is drifting my way. Her shampoo I think—something floral yet spicy and so goddamn good.
