What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck arewedoing? This is such a bad idea. I need to find a way to make her leave. Say something assholeish to make her run away. We should put as much distance as possible between us.
Yet ... I can’t find it in me to do any of that.
All I want to do is pull her closer and sleep.
So that’s what I do.
“You know,” she says after several quiet moments. “We never did look over those kitchen plans together.”
I chuckle, dragging my fingers through her hair that’s sufficiently tangled at this point. “No, I guess we didn’t. We’ll deal with it later. Right now I need sleep. Apparently I have a long day of reconfiguring a kitchen tomorrow.”
“Deal.” She kisses my chest, then curls into me, and I tighten my grip on her, almost like I’m afraid she’s going to disappear in the middle of the night.
She might. She should. Because this really is a bad idea. Possibly the worst one I’ve ever had.
But I can’t deny that I want to do it again.
I am so fucked.
Chapter Fourteen
Summer
Sweat trickles down my neck, waking me from my slumber.
I’m hot. Sure, it’s summertime, but this is the Pacific Northwest. Even when it’s hot, it’s neverthishot.
No, this is something else. Like an inferno, flames lick up the side of my body. This is—
The memories of last night slam into me, and I spring up in bed, looking to my right.
Ezra.
He’s on his stomach, his arms stretched out under his pillow, one leg kicked up. The sheet barely covers his naked ass as he takes deep, steady breaths. He’s even frowning in his sleep, and it’s almost unfair how absurdly hot that is.
I have the urge to lift the sheet and get a look at him in the morning light, but I refrain.
Holy shit! I slept with Ezra!
Not even just once either. The second time came a few hours ago when I woke up to his hand between my legs, fingers pumping into me. I was shocked by how wet I was when he pulled me onto his lap, where I rode him until we were both completely spent.
I don’t even remember falling back asleep, but clearly we did.
I glance at the clock on the bedside table, and I can hardly believe it when I see it’s nearly eleven. I can’t remember the last time I slept so late or so damn peacefully. It must be his big, comfy bed. Or maybe it was the orgasms. Or perhaps it was just sleeping next to someone for the first time in ... shit, I can’t actually remember the last time I did.
I roam my gaze over my bedmate once more, and I wonder what he’s dreaming about that has him so grumpy even in his sleep. He carries too much on his shoulders.
I slip from the bed as quietly as I can, grabbing the first piece of clothing I can find and throwing it on before stopping in the bathroom. I do my business, then find some toothpaste and give my teeth a quick brush with my finger.
Ezra’s still in the same position when I’m finished, so I sneak out in search of my phone. I’m a grown adult and don’t need to check in with my father about anything, but I also know he’s a bit of a worrywart. He can claim it’s the law enforcement man in him, but I think that’s just part of being a parent. Besides, I want to make sure he’s okay. Aside from me working, it’ll be the first time we’ve spent an evening apart since I came back to Washington, and I admit that I worry about him more now than I did before his heart incident.
I find the device on the kitchen counter, unsurprised that it’s completely dead.
“Shit,” I mutter, looking around for a charger.
I locate one stashed away in what looks to be Ezra’s “junk drawer,” a term I use very loosely for him, considering there’s an organizer in it and everything seems to have a place.
While waiting for my phone to boot back up, I make my way to the fridge. I think I saw some orange juice in there last night, and it sounds too good to pass up at the moment.
