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I get out of the shower, dry off, and put on my sleep clothes. When I reenter the room, Miles is sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he almost looked nervous.
It's probably not nerves, though, he's most likely pissed I'm making him cuddle me like a child.
"We don't have to do this," I tell him as I approach the bed. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable," he replies hastily, then clears his throat. "Unless you've changed your mind?"
I shake my head. "I'll never say no to snuggles."
"All right then." He gets up and lifts the top sheet. "How would you like to do this?"
I normally hug my body pillow so I should probably suggest that I hug Miles, but…this is my only chance at literally sleeping with the guy. I've dreamed about having his strong arms around me for so long. Would it be so bad if I suggest he cuddle me instead?
He can always say no. I slip into bed and roll over, facing away from him. "Are you okay with holding me?" I ask over my shoulder.
"Of course."
The mattress sinks behind me as he climbs in. Then a strong arm drapes over me. I cling to it, pressing it to my chest.
"Is this okay?" we ask at the same time.
I smile. "Very okay. You?"
"Same. I just have to move to turn off the light."
"Of course." I release his arm and Miles leans over, turning off the bedside light, plunging the room into darkness.
He brings his arm over me again, and this time, I shuffle back slightly, pressing myself against him. I'm pushing my luck, I know I am, but like I said, this is my one and only shot at being wrapped up in Miles's arms. Can't blame me for making the most of it.
Now that I'm snug and secure, my eyelids get heavy. I'm warm. I'm safe. I'm with Miles. The nightmare of a day begins to fade away.
"Goodnight," I murmur as I begin to drift off.
"Goodnight," he whispers, and I must already be dreaming, because I swear I feel a gentle kiss on my shoulder.
* * *
I wake up the next morning to the glorious smell of coffee, bacon, and eggs; and the even more glorious sight of Miles preparing it all in the kitchenette. His large frame takes up so much of the small space.
Since he hasn't seen that I'm awake yet, I take a few moments to appreciate witnessing this side of him. My fingers twitch under the sheet. I'd love to capture him like this.
I shake the silly thought away. Sleeping in the same bed as my boss is weird enough, sketching him while he makes us breakfast takes it to a whole other level of wrongness.
But there's no harm in checking him out a little while longer, right?
At work, Miles is always so in control. Even here, he carries the same composure, moving around the tiny space like he knows what he's doing. Because a man like Miles Huntington either knows what he's doing, or he's got the confidence to know he can do anything he sets his mind to. I don't know which quality I find sexier.
I get out of bed and trudge over to him.
His eyes find mine, and he smiles warmly as he rounds the island, carrying a tray. "Good morning."
"Morning."
He's dressed in dark pants and a navy-blue shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. I've never seen him this casual before. It suits him.
He places the plates and mugs on the dining table. I'm still rubbing sleep out of my eyes as I sit down. Miles's brown eyes flick to…my hair?
I pat it and groan. "Sorry. It's a mess in the mornings."
