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I look up at Saxon, snapping from my thoughts. He really is incredibly gorgeous, and I know that’s not the beer talking. “A little,” I confess, as the night has taken an unexpected cold turn. He steps forward and gently rubs my arms.
Instantly, my traitorous body purrs at the contact and I’m too drunk to fight it.
“Better?”
My head wobbles as I nod.
The moonlight catches off his curved lip, highlighting his scar. Before my brain can reprimand my finger, I’m tracing the outline of his mouth He’s visibly shocked, but he doesn’t pull away. “What happened?”
I don’t remove my finger to allow him to reply. His warm flesh feels too good to break contact.
“I ran into a door,” he replies, smirking.
His response gives insight that he doesn’t want to talk about it. But when I finger over the scar repeatedly, mesmerized, he knows I won’t accept anything but the truth.
“I got into a fight.”
“With who? Why?”
“With no one special and why, because…I needed to feel pain to know I was alive.”
I freeze, pinning him with an inquisitive stare. His comment has me thinking about scars of my own. “Every scar means you were stronger than whatever tried to beat you.” Tears prick my eyes, hating how closely I can relate to his remark.
Saxon watches me, reading between the lines. He’s come to read me so well.
A horn honks, alerting us that our cab has arrived, thankfully interrupting a moment that was filled with too much emotion.
The alcohol hits me on the way home, and I end up slipping in and out of sleep. Nothing can compare to seeing the sights of Montana on the back of Saxon’s bike anyway, so I fall into a peaceful slumber. The car stopping and Saxon’s hushed voice alerts my foggy brain that we’ve arrived home, but my heavy eyelids and even heavier legs refuse to budge.
“Lucy…” he coos, “we’re home.”
I groan in response and turn into my pillow.
Wait, pillow?
As my “pillow” shifts, I realize I’m draped all over Saxon. If I wasn’t completely wasted, I would move. But the idea of moving hurts my pounding head and turns my nauseous stomach. So instead, I snuggle firmer into my makeshift cushion.
A graveled laugh soothes my aches and pains and I sigh, hugging into Saxon—the world’s comfiest bed.
I’m certain I’m floating because all of a sudden, I feel weightless. My body sags and I allow myself to be swept away in total stillness. A thump…thump…thump against my ear is the most soothing sound in the world. Not to mention with every breath I take, I’m cocooned in the most comforting smell. I want to stay here forever.
Forever comes to a screeching halt however when my ride through the clouds ends. “I’m going to put you to bed, Lucy. Okay?” No, that’s not okay. That sounds like an awful idea.
Forcing one eye open, I see the white stain of my bedroom door. I know I didn’t walk here, therefore, I know I’m in Saxon’s arms. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go in there because the thought of spending another night alone is too damn depressing. And then on the flip side, if Samuel is in there, I don’t want to be sleeping next to him either. My bedroom holds too many memories, ones I don’t want to deal with right now.
“Can I sleep with you?” I ask, my voice sounding like a garbled mess.
“W-what?” The hitch in Saxon’s voice is unusual, as he’s usually so poised.
“Can I sleep with you?” I repeat. “In your bed. Next to you. I promise…I won’t touch. Your virtue is safe with me.” I giggle at my own joke.
Saxon exhales loudly, and I’m too tired and drunk to decipher why. “Sure.”
Relieved, I snuggle into Saxon’s chest, sighing when that sense of comfort surrounds me once more. His boots sound against the floorboards as he walks towards his room. The door creaks as he opens it.
The moment he carries me in, I groggily open my eyes, thankful when he doesn’t switch on the light. “Do you think you can stand?”
I’m pretty certain that I can, so I nod.
