Page 22 of Caught in the Middle

Chapter Eight

She must have fallen asleep, because when she woke up with a start, the room was pitch black, the television was off, and the scratchy bed sheets were pulled up over her.

She was absolutely freezing.

As she came back to her senses, she realised that she was still fully clothed, and Oliver must have tucked her in. She glanced at the cheap alarm clock sitting on her bedside table: 3.28am.

She cursed herself silently. She had fallen asleep around 6pm, so there was no chance that she was going to get back to sleep again. Besides, this room was so goddamn cold that her teeth were chattering.

She laid on the lumpy pillow, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck she had managed to get herself into this mess.

'Jesus, it's fucking freezing in this dive.'

The sound of Oliver's voice in the darkness made her jump. 'I know,' she groaned, 'I can't feel my nose, and I swear my toes have turned blue.'

She could hear Oliver's teeth chattering as his cheap sheets crinkled around him. Suddenly, she felt her own sheets being lifted, and the cold, outside air rushing in.

'Shuffle up,' Oliver said. He was trying to get in her bed.

'Oliver! No -'

'Oh, shut up. We'll both freeze to death,' he bumped his hip against hers in an effort to get her to move up to the edge of the bed. 'Jesus,' he said, 'you're still wearing that ugly fleece, how on earth are you cold?!'

'Well, someone didn't wake me up, so I didn't change into my pyjamas!'

'Hey, I thought you said you were an adult? Wake yourself up, woman.'

As he buried his head into her pillow, she felt something flutter in the pit of her stomach. His aftershave wafted up her nose, a smell she had begun to crave.

She turned her back to him, and tucked the covers up under her chin. She flinched in surprise when she felt his strong arms snake around her waist, and pull her tight into his chest.

She didn't dare breathe, laying there in shock, not knowing what to do. With one arm curled tightly around her waist and tucked under her hip, his other hand gently rubbed her forearm, in which seemed like an attempt to keep her warm.

His arms were more muscular than she thought. She knew he was toned, but it was hard to tell to what extent when he was always in his suit.

After what felt like ages of shallow breathing and trying her hardest not to move, the arm rubbing began to slow down, and Lucy thought he was finally falling asleep.

'What's the matter, you never had to share a bed with a man?' he murmured in her ear, his soft breath tickling the back of her neck.

Even in the darkness, her eyes widened in surprise. She had no idea what to say, so, as usual, she got defensive.

'Erm, obviously yes I have. Just usually when a man tries to share a bed with me it's not in some seedy motel with no heating, in the North England countryside.'

His chest vibrated against her back as he laughed. 'Ah, I don't believe you, I've bet you've had your fair share of encounters in seedy motel rooms.' He continued to rub her arm again. And, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she was considerably warmer.

'I bet you say that to all the girls you take to this seedy motel room,' she quipped back.

'Nuh-uh,' he whispered, 'none of the girls I've saved have been stupid enough to let me into their beds.'

Lucy's stomach fluttered again. She wasn't often lost for words, but this time she couldn't quite manage to get anything out.

After a second, he shook with laughter and squeezed her tighter. 'I'm joking, you doughnut.'

She gently elbowed him in response, but couldn't help but wonder if he had been in this exact situation before, cuddling up to one of Joey's targets in this exact same motel room.

Her heart sank as she realised it was more than likely. Still, she couldn't help but pry.

'Have you ever... you know,' she stammered. It sounded a lot easier to say in her head.

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