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“I’d rather not,” I pout, and August holds out a bag of Skittles and shakes it a little.
“I’m not a dog,” I sniff but still scoot his way a few inches. “You can’t just shake candy at me and expect me to heel.”
He spreads his legs a little and shakes the bag again, and of course, I squirm my way over to him, but then he tucks those Skittles back in the duffle and holds up a toothbrush that’s definitely not mine. The bastard pulled a bait and switch.
“Didn’t see yours in your bag. Your friend packed your dildo, but not your toothbrush,” August says with a slight chuckle, squeezing some paste onto the bristles and handing it to me.
“Yes, well, Lex tries to help because I have a terrible time remembering important things, but it’s a bit like the blind leading the blind,” I say, scrubbing my teeth for a minute and then handing it back to him.
My ADHD brain gets sidetracked so often that if I don’t do something immediately, then I’ll usually forget it. There are sticky notes all over Lex’s apartment. Mostly mine, but some from him as well. They help me remember. Sometimes.
Like, there was one stuck on the bathroom mirror reminding me to pack my toothbrush. But that one obviously didn’t work. When we get home, I’ll find it tucked somewhere random, like under my pillow or on top of my dresser.
August rinses the brush with some water and then scrubs his own teeth. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. Us sharing a toothbrush is hotter than it has any right to be.
Like I said. Sad. Very, very sad.
Apparently, I can get off on oral hygiene.
“Alright, we should get in the sleeping bag now. It’s getting way too cold,” August says, blowing into his hands. Those big hands that were on me earlier, holding me against him, touching my face so tenderly I almost cried.
I need to get it together before I do something crazy. Like beg. Or blurt something I can’t take back. Again.
August slides inside the sleeping bag without looking at me, and I wish very badly that he was naked.
“Here, grab that emergency blanket and hand it to me,” he says, holding out his hand.
I grab onto the crinkly blanket, and then I crawl over to him and press myself against his hard body. Then in a twist of limbs and grunts, the two of us are squished together, zipped up in the sleeping bag with the emergency blanket over us.
“It’s quite toasty,” I mutter against his neck, trying my best to not get hard. It’s not working, and now I’m sweating.
“Getting kind of hot, actually. Hot damn. It’s like Florida in here. That blanket is no joke.”
“Want to take your sweatshirt off?” he asks, chuckling lightly.
I nod and bite back awhy, yes, I would happily take off all my clothes as well. I manage to keep that thought inside my head, and two minutes later, we are comfortably zipped back up, and my head rests on his chest. I can hear his heart beating beneath me, slow and even.
I love that sound.
“Better?” he asks.
Oh god, yeah, it’s better. I want to just travel through the rest of my life zipped up in this sleeping bag with him. Maybe call it hibernation, and only come out in the springtime to eat and then get right back inside with him.
“Yep.”
I gotta keep my answers short and sweet. He’s already freaked out about earlier. Imagine if I had added in my fantasies about his ass? Jesus, he’d knock me unconscious with a shovel and bury me in the snow. They’d discover me a thousand years from now and call me the Iceman.
“You asleep?” August asks softly.
“Nope. I hate sleep,” I reply.
“Why?”
“You know why,” I mutter and tuck my face against his neck and breathe in deeply because I’m trying not to remember the time that I punched August in the face when he woke me from a nightmare.
Months ago, I’d stupidly dozed on the couch in the middle of the day and had awoken to hands grabbing me. I hate being touched without notice. It makes me feel so helpless. So, I’d suddenly lashed out, my fist landing right on August’s eye, and the look of anger and disdain on his face broke my heart a little.
I’d tried to apologize but couldn’t get the words out. They got stuck in my throat behind the lump of my shame. So, I just turned around and walked out of the house without a word.
