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He takes a quick shower and then walks out in a robe. “It’s all yours.”
I nod and head into the bathroom to get ready for bed. This bathroom is insane. There are two completely different sections, his and hers, that meet in the middle for a shower big enough to fit my car. It’snot just separate vanities and sinks, but separate toilets too. I’ve never seen a bathroom in a house with two toilets.
I put on my usual sleepwear: an old, cropped T-shirt with shorts. When I walk back out, I see him in athletic shorts and a T-shirt. He stares at me, moving his eyes up and down my body. Saying nothing, he turns and walks into his closet. A few seconds later he emerges with one of his big T-shirts and hands it to me. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage myself sleeping next to you in that. Can you wear this over it?”
I giggle. “Sure.” Admittedly, if he were in boxer briefs instead of looser shorts, I’d feel the same. I was already getting antsy at the notion of him not wearing a shirt. I’m glad he is.
We both lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in a dark room. This feels so awkward.
At some point he turns to me. “Can I ask you the question I was afraid to ask earlier?”
I turn toward him. “Sure.”
“Are you really divorced, or did you just say that to my mother to keep up the ruse?”
“Do you honestly think I’d be here in your bed if I weren’t? Real or fake, I wouldn’t do that.”
“You may be in my bed, but you’re notinmy bed. Not yet.” He reaches over and rubs my lower lip with his thumb. “When the time comes, believe me, you’ll see the difference.”
I gulp, at a complete loss for words.
He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “Goodnight, Amanda. Sweet dreams.”
At that, he turns and faces the other way. What have I gotten myself into?
I’m awakenedin the middle of the night by Beckett laying on top of me, sucking my nipple from the outside of my shirt.
“Beckett, what are you doing?”
He doesn’t respond or stop. He’s so heavy on top of me. I can’t move. I look down and his eyes are closed.
I say his name a few more times, but I get no response. Not even a remote sign of acknowledgment. Is he awake? I don’t think he is.
His hands move to my breasts. He sleepily mumbles, “I love these,” as he kneads them over and over.
I feel his erection on my leg through his shorts.
I shake him but he doesn’t break stride. I give him one more hard shake and his eyes blink open and closed a few times.
He looks up at me and removes his mouth and hands from my breasts. He pinches his eyebrows together. “What’s going on?”
“I think it should be me who’s asking you that. I was pretty clear on my rules, Beckett.” Though, if I’m being honest, I don’t mind him on top of me, touching me.
He rolls off me and blows out a breath. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t done that in years.”
“Done what?”
“I…umm…used to get a little frisky in my sleep.”
“You weren’t awake?”
He shakes his head. “No. It’s kind of like sleepwalking.”
“So…you don’t sleepwalk, you sleepfuck?”
He lets out a laugh. “I’ve never called it that, but yes, I suppose I do.”
“That may have been information you should haveshared with me before I agreed to this,” I say more playfully than seriously.
