Shit.I freeze, not moving a muscle. I’ve never done this before. Not to a woman. Carrying Leila to bed’s a different story and not even close to this situation. Better back off for now. I’m sure I can talk her into a good morning kiss once the sun’s up.
Softer than the sigh of an angel, I hover my hand over her form as I reluctantly back away. But then I come into contact with her bare feet again. What the—? They must have come uncovered when she moved. Silly kitten. Good thing I’m here. Just like before, I tuck those cute little feet back under the covers to keep them nice and cozy.
My steps carry me back to the door, where I turn one more time for a final look. I squint, not quite sure of what I’m seeing. Then I move closer.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Her feet are out in the open. Again. Hmm. Maybe she doesn’t like them feeling constricted, kinda like I always need the air circulating. I can’t leave them like that, though. Like an itch that needs to be scratched for relief, it’ll eat away at me and keep my sleep even further away. Socks should do the trick, then.
Putting a hand out so I don’t repeat the incident with the coffee table, I ease open the dresser drawer that holds her socks and reach in.
Fuck.
This is lace. Cheap lace that’s worn in several places, but lace nonetheless. I’d seen it when I boxed up douche-face’s shit, but I’d forgotten that she kept her socks and panties together. Pushing away my desire to replace any intimate clothing Silas might have seen—or, God forbid, touched—I sneak a pair into my pocket. I’ve got just the place for this and the key.
Reaching in again, I grab a pair of fuzzy socks for her naked feet. There. With patience and a bit of maneuvering, they’re now hanging off the bed, but covered. And now that she’s all cozy again, I don’t want to leave her.
More than that, I can’t.
What a predicament. I can’t climb into bed with her, but neither can I walk away. Casting a glance behind me, I take in the shadows clustered around the door frame. There’s only one thing to do.
Quietly stepping to the door, I lower myself down onto the floor and let the walls cradle me as I lean back into the corner. It promises to be a mildly-to-moderately uncomfortable night of sleep, but I have to do this. If she catches me here in the morning, I have no idea how I’d explain myself.
Better hope I wake up with the sun.
The things I do for love, Rosanna.
Prenatalvitamins.Check.
Ginger gummies.Check.
Ginger ale.Check.
Now all I’m missing is the woman so she can tell me if she’d prefer her fruit with dry toast or yogurt.Fuck it.I forgot to make sure she had some crackers on her nightstand in case she woke up feeling poorly. Last night’s sleeping arrangements have my mind running sluggishly and a catch in my back.
Looking down the length of the countertop one more time to make sure I’ve got everything I need, my eyes fall on Silas’s face. “What are you looking at, fuckface? She’s all mine now.”
The seed of anger that builds up at the sight of him fades away as Rosanna trudges from her room into the bathroom. Aww... She’s so cute in her pajama onesie and outrageous bedhead. A few minutes later, she comes out rubbing her eyes.
“Morning, little mama. Sleep good?”
Voice rusty and hoarse, she croaks out, “Yeah,” and collapses into a kitchen chair, dropping her head with a thunk.
“You feeling okay?” Not sure if she just isn’t a morning person or if my babies are giving her fits.
“Yeah,” she grumbles with her eyes closed. “Just a bit of a headache.”
My poor kitten. Crossing the tiny kitchen in two steps, I crouch down. “Hey.” One eye cracks open. Adorable. Giving her a small grin, I lean in and take her mouth with mine. Pulling away, I lick my lips to lock in her taste. “Fresh fruit for breakfast. You want dry toast or some yogurt to go along with it?”
“Both,” she says faintly, unable to look away from my mouth.
“You got it.” A woman who knows what she wants. I like it. Popping the bread in the toaster, I let my eyes feast on her morning beauty, pausing on her feet. One of her fuzzy socks is rubbing the top of the other. I’m glad she’s still wearing them because it’s still a little cool in here, especially with this linoleum. “Got an itch?”
“No, but what is...” Her voice trails off in confusion as she looks down. “Socks. When did I put socks on?”
My secret amusement about eats me up inside, but then the toaster pops, saving me from an explanation. I plate everything up and place it in front of her. “All right, here you go. Chopped bananas with walnuts and a fairy dusting of sugar, dry toast, some light vanilla yogurt, and ginger ale. Or would you rather milk or water? And here’s your vitamins and some ginger chews, if you need them.”
Her brow furrows. “Ginger ale is good. Wait a second. Where’d you get this? I didn’t have any bananas, did I?”
