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There werethree things I’d learned over the past two days. The first was that Holton looked too damn sexy in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. After he’d caught me ogling him the other night, the man had taken to wearing nothing else while he was at home. I was pretty sure he was doing it on purpose just to screw with me. Not that I’d give him the satisfaction of saying anything about it, because then he’d know I’d spent the better part of forty-eight hours drooling over him. He cooked in his underwear, ate in his underwear, watched television in his underwear, and slept in his underwear. And he did all of it while looking sexy as hell.
The second thing I learned was that somehow, despite all odds, I slept like a baby in Holton Clarke’s bed. I didn’t know if it was because his heat kept me nice and toasty warm, or simply because his bed felt like sleeping on a comfortable cloud... with lumbar support.
And the last thing I learned was that Holton cuddled in his sleep, and like most everything else he did, he spooned really freaking well. Every night, we’d go to bed with about two feet of space between us, yet somehow, by morning, we’d both shifted into the middle, and I’d be curled up like a cat in a freaking sunbeam with his big, strong body wrapped around me from behind. And damn it, but I’d never had such amazing sleep in all my life.
There was just one problem. One giant, awkward, incredibly hard problem, and it was usually poking me in the butt each morning when I woke up, turning me on like nobody’s business. I was half convinced that his morning wood was actually killing my braincells, because I’d gone downright stupid with need, and it was only getting worse.
This marked the third night that I was expected to sleep in Holton’s bed, with himin it, and I wasn’t sure I could do it. My skin was so tight, it felt like I’d been stuffed into a sausage casing two sizes too small. I’d had to change my panties twice today because every time I got a whiff of his delicious scent on my skin or in my hair, my body went wanton.
Since moving in with him, this was the first day I’d had off from work, and I’d been grateful for the reprieve, even though he’d only agreed to let me stay home by myself if I swore I wouldn’t leave and I’d keep the doors locked at all times. Then he’d left Churro with me, like somehow, that big-headed dog could save me if the shit hit the fan. I’d nearly asked, “What is she going to do? Lay her big-ass head on the intruder’s foot to pin him in place?” but he could be kind of sensitive when it came to his pwecious baby. The man had bought her a booster seat and built her a ramp, for crying out loud.
Deva and Cash had come over for a visit, around lunch time, and while Cash played with the dog, I’d confessed to Deva about my new sleeping arrangements.
She’d been downright giddy and didn’t even bother to hide it for my sake. When I tried telling her it was nothing to get excited about, she’d vehemently disagreed. “As far as I can see, that man is going out of his way, bending over backward to not only protect you, but to take care of you as well. I’m no expert on the matter, for sure, but I don’t think a man cooks for a woman unless she means something to him, not to mention going out of his way to drive her to and from work, as well as sharing his bed because he couldn’t stand to see her on the couch.”
I sputtered, trying to play it off. “It’s just in his nature, Deva. He’s a protector. It’s what he does. It’s who he is. And as far as the cooking goes, the man has to eat and it’s easier to cook for two than for one.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince more, her or me, but I had to admit that the argument sounded weak as hell, and my best friend knew it.
“You can ask any one of our friends, and they’re going to tell you the exact same thing I’m telling you. That man has feelings for you, Lyric. I don’t have a single doubt about it. I know he hurt you, love, but don’t you think it’s time to forgive him already?”
I pouted, knowing deep down that she was right, but too damn prideful to admit it out loud. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”
She shot me a flat look. “I am, and you know it, so don’t go there with me. And I’m telling you to forgive him foryoursake.” She poked me in the chest to stress her point. “Not his. From what I can tell, you’re just making yourself miserable. I hate seeing you unhappy, and if letting go of your animosity toward Holton will bring that light back to your eyes, I’m all for it.”
I leaned her way on the couch and bumped my shoulder against hers. “Thanks, honey. I appreciate it.”
“Any time.”
“Does that mean we can change the subject?”
She shrugged. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”
I spent the next hour telling her all about Cal. I shared my favorite memories with her so she could get a better picture of the incredible kid my little brother had been and how much we’d loved each other. There were a few tears—I wasn’t sure there would ever come a day where I didn’t cry just a little whenever I spoke about my baby brother—but there were also laughs and smiles as I shared with her all the good times we had together.
Opening up to her, sharing those memories of Cal, made that connection I still felt to him even stronger, and I realized I didn’t need his ashes to keep a piece of him with me. I just needed to share him with the people I’d come to care for deeply. By talking about him with my friend, a part of him lived on.
By the time Deva left, we were both a bit wrung out emotionally. Cash was dozing on her shoulder, and Churro was lying in the middle of the living room floor on her back, her legs splayed out like the kid had thoroughly exhausted her.
We hugged, long and hard, then I stood at the front window—after making sure the front door was locked on her orders—as she backed out of Holton’s driveway.
For the first time in a really long time, I felt light. I wasn’t being pressed down by a tremendous weight settled on my shoulders. With my mind free for the first time in weeks, I grabbed the book we were reading this month for book club, curled up on the couch, and dove into the story, finally able to focus fully on it for the first time. Churro eventually joined me, snuggling herself in the tiny triangle of space made by the bend of my knees.
As she snoozed, I devoured the pages of a book that was actually really good, but I’d been struggling to get into over the past few weeks. I was so into the story that I lost track of time, and didn’t realize how late it had gotten until the front door opened, giving me a fright, and Holton came walking into the house.
Instead of going to meet her daddy like she usually did, Churro stayed right where she was, dead to the world, and I didn’t miss the way Holton looked all around for his dog before finally spotting her beside me.
The man shot me a glare, dropped his keys into a ceramic bowl near the front door, the came stomping in my direction. He scooped Churro off the couch and snuggled her close to his chest protectively, while pinning me with that scowl. “I see you’re trying your best to steal my dog,” he muttered grumpily.
I blinked in bemusement. “I was just reading,” I defended while trying my hardest not to laugh. “You left her here with me today. Did you expect me not to cuddle with her?”
He let out a sound like a low, annoyed growl before grumbling, “Whatever.”
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Bad day?”
He continued to grunt. “It was fine,” he answered as he turned on the heel of his tactical boot and started toward his room. “I gotta get the hell out of this uniform.”
I’d seen him grumpy, sure. As a matter of fact, he’d been a grumpy pain in the ass the past few days. But this seemed a bit extra, even for him.
He slammed the door to his bedroom, leaving me alone on the couch, wondering what had happened to put him in such a foul mood.
