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“I fucking love those.”
I look down at my underwear and feel my eyebrows draw together.
“When the fuck did cotton panties with flowers become sexier than lace shit? Do not fucking ask me, but those are hot, and you in nothing but them is even hotter.”
I roll my eyes and pull them up my legs before climbing into bed. “You’re such a guy.”
“But you love me,” he says, and I smile.
“I do. I don’t know what that says about me, but I do love you.”
“It says you’re smart.” He turns off the light and pulls me to him so my head is on his chest and his hand can wrap around my hair like it always does when we sleep. “You gonna be able to sleep?”
Hearing the concern in his voice has me pressing closer to him. “I’ll be okay. I haven’t had one in a long time,” I tell him quietly, tracing random patterns on his chest.
“I wonder what triggered it.”
“I think talking to your mom last night,” I say softly.
“What did she say?” he growls.
“She told me about your work.”
“You already knew about my work,” he says, confused.
I press closer. “I know, but I guess I never thought you could get into trouble.”
“Baby, if we were having this conversation a few years ago, I wouldn’t be able to tell you that you have nothing to worry about, but I’m no longer reckless. I take risks, but they are all calculated, and the worst-case scenario is thought of and worked around before every situation.” His hand moves to my cheek. “I don’t want you to worry about any of that. Things can always go wrong, and if they do, we figure it out when it happens. Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I nod against his chest.
“Night, baby.”
“Night,” I whisper, listening to his heartbeat, letting it lull me to sleep.
