AllFreeNovel
Share Us
LYLA
Iwake up slowly. Consciousness cuts through the fluffy clouds of dreams. The peaceful state, where there’s nothing to worry about, fades to nothing, reality taking its place.
I roll over, scrunching my eyes tighter closed in an attempt to cling to the relaxation for a little while longer.
Except, instead of colliding with cool fabric, I hit a warm, muscular body.
My eyes fly open, memories assaulting my brain in a rapid rush. Hot skin and heated whispers. Dirty kisses and filthy words. Loud moans and deep groans.
When I flip on my back, there’s a satisfied ache between my thighs that reminds me I had sex last night with the one guy I never thought I’d fuck again—twice.
With the father of my child.
With the man I literally watched wash blood off his hands two nights ago.
Nick is already awake. He’s watching me wake up with a lazy indifference, one arm tucked behind his head. The sheets cover everything from the waist down, but the carved ridges of his abdomen are fully visible in the morning light streaming in through the cracks in the curtains.
I take my time tracing the view of Nick shirtless, skimming over the ridges of his abs and taking in the few silver scars that mar his skin. The longest one runs from his collarbone and across his shoulder, partially covered by a nautical star tattoo.
Finally, I make it up to his eyes, which are studying me.
“Hi.” I chew my bottom lip, trying to decide what else to say.
“Stop doing that.” Nick’s voice is raspy, rough with sleep.
I shoot him a questioning look. He tugs my bottom lip with his thumb, freeing it from the grasp of my teeth.
“Unless you want to get fucked again,” he adds.
“I’m sore,” I admit, as if he’s not aware of the size of his dick.
It’s a delicious ache at least. A pleasurable pain.
“Are you?” Nick smirks.
With his bicep bulging and his hair messy, he doesn’t look like a killer. He looks obscenely gorgeous. He looks like the guy I fell in love with. The confident freshman who could make me melt with just one look.
Lying in bed together doesn’t help. I have many—too many—old memories of doing this same thing. It doesn’t matter that those were in an extra-long twin bed, and this is in a king-size bed with thousand-thread-count sheets.
I feel eighteen again, ecstatic to be living life on my own terms and overwhelmed by spending time with him. Having the attention of someone so much larger than life after years of being shoved to the side was like feeling the sun after endless nights.
I’ve grown up. I’ve changed. But Nick still makes my heart race and my stomach flip, and that’s even more dangerous than the reminder of how consuming our physical connection is.
“I didn’t think you’d still be here.”
Honesty is my best strategy, I decide. We’re not the teenagers we met as anymore. I don’t regret sleeping with Nick even though I probably should. I’ve spent too much time sitting back and simply surviving. If there’s anything being here has taught me, it’s that you should aim higher than survival.
Nick isn’t looking at me. His gaze is on the row of picture windows that line the far wall. “I’ll have new curtains put up in here today. I don’t know how you sleep past sunrise.”
I stare out the windows too, not bothering to point out how he could have slept in his own bed. We ended up in my room mostly because it’s closer to the stairs. I didn’t expect him to stay the whole night.
I try again. “No early morning today?”
“No.”
I shift a little closer. Nick surveys me curiously as I turn on my side and trace a scar on his ribs. He didn’t have any in college, except the one on his hand.
“How did you get this one?”
