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“Your mother just directed me to your room.” I covered my face in embarrassment. “It’s funny that I’m even here, in Chase Brooks’ bedroom. The old me would never believe it.”
He pulled lightly on my arm, until I was standing inches from his face. “I can barely believe it now.”
I stroked his soft hair, and kissed his forehead.
He placed his hand over my heart. “It’s beating so fast.”
“It always beats like this when I’m around you.”
“Do I make you nervous?” He moved my hair away from my neck, and began making a trail of light kisses from my jawline to my collarbone. “Or excited?”
“A little of both,” I exhaled.
“What are you nervous about?” He kissed his way across my chest, and I felt his tongue along the other side of my neck.
“What we’re going to do.”
He sat up straight and looked into my eyes as he spoke. “We don’t have to do anything. I just want to kiss you, uninterrupted. I want to lie here and hold you tonight, and wake up with you in my arms. Is that okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
He pulled me into his embrace and kissed me. I craved his lips like I was lost in the desert searching for water. I was dying of thirst, and he was all I needed to survive. Once I had him, I couldn’t get enough. We kissed into the late hours of the night, until our motions slowed and our eyelids felt heavy.
“Let’s get under the covers,” he whispered.
As I slid my legs under his sheets, he stood. I watched him slip his shirt up and over his head, revealing his flawlessly ripped torso. My eyes made their way over his smooth chest and perfectly formed abs; they continued on to the protruding bones that seemed to point the way down his pelvis. I could not avert my eyes when he pulled down his jeans, and waltzed over to the light switch in his tight-fitting boxer briefs. His body was a work of art. He could have beaten Mark Wahlberg out of his underwear ad circa 1991.
“Hey. Leave the light on for a little longer,” I whispered.
He looked down as he grinned, running his fingers through his hair.
I sat up on my knees as he walked back to the bed. “Chase Brooks, are you nervous?” I planted several kisses on his chest, and ran my fingers over his stomach. “Or excited?”
“A little of both.”
I smiled. “Good.” I continued kissing every inch of bare skin on his body. Every now and then I would sit back on my heels to take his body into full account. “You may turn off the lights now.”
He switched them off and climbed into bed beside me. My head fell into that perfect spot in the crook of his neck, as he wrapped his arms around me. With our bodies intertwined beneath the sheets, I inhaled slowly and deeply. My racing heart began to slow down.
“I could lay in this moment forever,” he whispered softly into my ear.
If only we could.
15
Humiliation with a Side of Awkwardness
The next morning, we woke up in exactly the same position. I felt wetness on my mouth that I realized to be drool. Mortified, I quickly wiped it away, double-checking to see that Chase was still asleep. I slipped out of bed, and made a mad dash to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, wiped the crust from my eyes, and tried to smooth down the Medusa-like snakes that were slithering out of my bun. Beverly and Tim’s door was open, but all of the other doors were still shut. I tiptoed back to Chase’s room, and slipped under the covers.
He reached for me, his eyes still closed, and pulled me into his warm embrace. “I had the best sleep ever,” he murmured with his face buried in the pillow.
I smiled, running my fingers through his smooshed-allover hair. “I did, too, actually.”
His eyes sprang open. “Did you have your nightmare?”
I shook my head. “Nope. I slept through the entire night.”
A huge grin swept across his face. “It’s settled then.”
