Page 41 of These Wicked Hearts

I reach over without thinking and brush my fingers lightly against his arm. This right here isn’t about control or intensity, just warm contact. He doesn’t flinch away, but instead he leans into my touch, coming back to rest against my chest.

Another stretch of quiet settles between us but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

“You know . . .” I feel his fingers run down my chest. “You’re not as scary as you think you are.” I can’t see him, but I can imagine the playful smile tugging on his face.

I snort. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” He glances up at me. “Even when it’s almost too much you check in. You pay attention, and that isn’t scary. You’re brutal, but aware. Demanding but gentle.” He sighs against me. “I like it.”

My fingers don’t stop trailing the path on his bicep as we lie here. “Stay for a bit?” I ask.

“Just a nap, right?”

My smile is instant. “Just a quick nap.”

Atlas settles more fully against me, then the soft rumble of his snores sound through the room. It doesn’t irritate me. If anything, it settles me more. And I close my eyes and pretend for just one night I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

TEN

Atlas

My alarm splits through the room, forcing my eyes open.

I stretch a little. Fuuuck, I’m so sore. How are my muscles this sore? I feel something beside me then realize I’m not alone and this is not my bed. Fuck. Where am I? I lift my head then realize exactly where I am.

Gage didn’t kick me out after last night. More than that, it looked for a moment as if he really didn’t want to. Like he hated the idea of me leaving.

Okay, apparently my orgasms have made me delusional.

My alarm shrills again. “Shut that fucking thing off.” Gage groans into his pillow.

I grab my phone and shut the alarm off before checking the time. Shit, I have to get down to the arena soon. I have a game tonight against the Otters, and until now I’ve been able push that from my mind.

I’m excited to see my friends, though. A soft ache hits my chest, and part of me wishes I was still on their team. I miss the environment in the Otters’ locker room, and I know part of that’s because of Oli. It’s just a bit harder being the outsider than I thought it would be.

“If I open my eyes and look at my clock and see a number under eight, I’m going to be pissed.” I look over at him with his hands tucked under his pillow. The sharp lines in his back rise and fall with his breath, his blue hair erratic from sleep.

I smile and lean in, kissing his shoulder. “Is seven forty-five bad?” He moves his head to glare at me, his bleary eyes thick with sleep. Fuck, he’s so much cuter in the morning. It’s unfair. Then last night plays back like a movie. “Oh yeah, I just remembered.”

“What?” His voice is rough with sleep.

“You’re a rock star.”

He snorts, rolling onto his back. “And you’re mysterious.”

“Very.” I wink.

“Why do you have to get up this early?”

I drink him in. “I have to get ready for work.”

“Ah.” His arm lifts over his forehead as he shuts his eyes.

“Can I ask something?”

“You’re going to ask anyway.”

I roll onto my side facing him, and I fight the urge to kiss him. I don’t know where he’s at with morning breath, so I hold in the urge. “Last night was good, right?”