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But it didn’t make it any less soul-crushing to know I could have this. For a short time. Then it would be gone.
He would be onto another woman.
Maybe even one of those club girls a floor below us.
I hated to admit this even to myself, but jealousy slithered through my system, wrapping around my throat until it felt like I was being choked by it as my traitorous mind flashed with images of him in bed with one of them, saying the things he said to me, to them instead.
It wasn’t until the door closed that my mind seemed capable of forcing those imaginings away.
Because there was Detroit.
His pants low-slung.
His eyes warm.
His smile soft.
Mine.
He was mine.
Maybe just temporarily.
But I wasn’t going to waste the time I had with him by thinking and worrying about the future.
I was going to enjoy every second of this.
Detroit slipped back into the bed, hooking an arm under me, and rolling me onto his chest.
His arms went around me then.
Not casually.
They wrapped me up tight, held me like I was trying to escape, and he couldn’t bring himself to let me.
But I wasn’t going anywhere.
I just nestled into him.
I listened to his heartbeat until mine seemed to fall into step with it.
Then, slowly, bit by bit because I was fighting it every step of the way because I never wanted this night to end, I drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Detroit
I didn’t sleep.
Even as my eyes and body were aching for rest.
I couldn’t.
Because some irrational part of my mind was afraid that if I did, if I woke up again, I would find that this was all some sort of dream. Some fantasy conjured by my subconscious when I couldn’t take her closeness anymore without making her mine.
So I stayed up, even as she slowly drifted off to sleep some time later, her body dead weight on me.
My hands softly traced over her, like if I tried hard enough, I could commit every inch of her to memory.
