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A snort escaped me.
We really did have the same sense of humor.
“In all seriousness, we have all the time in the world, Iloli. If we need to spend the next month practicing the same one movement, getting you comfortable with the mental implications of it, then that’s what we’ll do.” He continued to stroke my back lightly. “And should you ever want to discuss what memories make you react this way, you know that I’m here.”
“I know,” I admitted.
And I did.
If I wanted to talk about something, Remmo would listen. Always.
“Can we just work on the yoga shit for the rest of the day?” I asked him. “I need time to wrap my head around all of this.”
“Of course.”
We stayed in the shower for at least another ten or twenty minutes, me clinging to Remmo and him holding me firmly against him. When I finally felt like I could handle the real world, I shut off the water, dried myself off, and put my workout tank and shorts back on again.
And then, we got back to work.
That night,after we were done training, I showered again—by myself, that time. I’d gotten sweaty as hell, and my muscles were yelling at me. Remmo assured me that my fae healing would take care of everything in the next hour or two, leaving me fresh and recharged by the time we started training again tomorrow.
I came out of the shower wearing his white shirt again, and his eyes followed me from where he sat, sprawled out on the couch with one of his journals.
After padding over to him, I curled up next to him, setting my feet on his lap andaccidentallybrushing his erection with one of them.
He didn’t mention it, silently offering me a journal. I made it about a quarter of the way through it before I fell asleep, too exhausted from the day to focus.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been out when I felt a pair of sturdy arms lift me off the cushions.
Even though I was mostly-asleep, a mental image of the way he’d slipped out of bed the night before came to my mind. So when he set me down, I rolled halfway on top of him—making him go still, until his arms locked around my back and my waist, holding me securely against him.
He inhaled my scent and held me tight while I pressed my nose to his neck, nuzzling right in as if that was where I belonged.
I fell back asleep quickly, and neither of us moved a damn inch all night.
We didn’t talkabout the snuggling-session as we ate breakfast and then got back to training the next morning.
When we went back to the punching after lunch, I shut down again. But that time, Remmo calmed me outside the shower, just holding me in his arms until I’d relaxed enough to breathe and think and process normally. After another hour or two passed, we tried again, with the same result.
And after we were done training and I’d taken a quick shower, we ended up on the couch together again, until I fell asleep the same way I had the night before. When he carried me to his bed—our bed—we slept together in it.
The lines between friends and mates had blurred dramatically, but I was still waiting for him to make the first move, because I wanted him to want me.
And because the training exhausted me both mentally and physically, to the point where I couldn’t even consider pushing myself out of my comfort zone when it came to Remmo.
So I didn’t.
And we trained.
And spending all of our time together must’ve been one hell of a cock block, because there was no way in hell he’d had a chance to jack off since that night—and he had to be getting as horny as I was, even if we were both ignoring the hell out of those feelings.
Two weeks passedin that fashion, before slight movement woke me up in the middle of the night.
It took me a few minutes to get my eyes open, but when I did, I found the bed empty.
I stared at the spot Remmo had filled for a long moment.
A long, long moment.
