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I went to the bathroom, where I knew he’d stuffed all his extra towels and washcloths into a basket on the floor, each one rolled up tightly. I wiped myself down with a washcloth while the water heated up, then took a warm one back to him so he could do the same.
I sat on the edge of the futon. “Do you want me to stay?” I needed him to say yes, but I also had to ask.
“If you want to.”
“I do,” I told him.
“Then I want you to.”
“I do have one request,” I told him.
“What?”
“Can we not sleep on the futon tonight?”
That earned me a smile. “I do have a bed,” he murmured.
“Then let’s use that.”
He let me lead him across the tiny apartment to the curtain that was blocking off the little alcove where he slept. He dropped my hand to pull the curtain back, revealing a slightly rumpled bed with a small pile of pillows at the head and what appeared to be a Navajo-style blanket, and then he turned to look at me.
Then he reached up and pulled me down to him. This kiss wasn’t soft or tender. It was hard, possessive, passionate, and I tasted blood on my tongue.
I pulled back. “Taavi.” I touched his lower lip, then held up my red-smudged fingers.
“I don’t care.” He sucked his lip into his mouth anyway.
“I do,” I told him. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”
He grimaced around his lip, but he let me gently help him out of his unbuttoned shirt and now-dirty sweatpants. I put both in his laundry hamper, then dropped my jeans to the floor. I hesitated, but then decided that naked was probably better than wearing cum-stained shorts to bed, so I left those on the floor along with my t-shirt.
Taavi didn’t object, immediately snuggling up next to me, his cheek on my chest.
“I’ll always want you to stay,” he murmured into my skin, and I wrapped my arm around him, sliding my fingers into his dark hair.
That presented a new problem. Because I would always want to. And Pet would never forgive me if I didn’t come home again.
* * *
I awoketo my phone buzzing like a mad thing.
The current issue was that I had no fucking idea where the goddamn thing was. Groggy as I was, it took me a good ten or fifteen seconds to realize that the bed I was in wasn’t mine and that I wasn’t going to find my phone on the particleboard nightstand next to it.
I tried not to wake Taavi as I slithered out from under him.
The phone stopped.
Shit.
Then it started again.
Double shit. That meant that somebodyneededme. Fuck.
I started by looking next to my laptop, then promptly tripped over my own pants.
“It’s on the arm of the futon,” Taavi’s sleepy voice told me.
There was a small thump.
