Page 12 of Plaything

“Odette?”

Deep in dreams, I shifted in my sleep. “Hm?” I groaned, not yet conscious.

His voice was like an echo in my mind, becoming part of my dream. “You’ll hurt your back laying on the floor.”

Again, I didn’t respond. I could hear him, but no matter how much I tried to open my eyes, I couldn’t. Was this a dream? I could think, only barely, but I knew his voice was real.

My back didn’t hurt; I was perfectly happy next to the radiating heat. My skin was warm, heated by the fire. I must have fallen asleep next to it.

Drifting off into deep, unconscious sleep was easy. I was on the verge of it anyway, not fully awake, when I heard his voice. Convincing myself it wasn’t real and that I was content sleeping here, I shifted into my back. My arms were up by my head, the blanket only covering my legs.

I don’t know how much time passed or if the man attempted to say anything else to me.

When I drifted back into a sliver of consciousness, I was being carried. His arms were like warm, soft steel around me. I was supported by my legs and lower back. Instead of being startled or alarmed like I should have been, I was strangely comforted. The man’s arms were like protective cages around my body.

I’d never been carried before; I’d never been in a position where I wanted or needed to be. If it was like this, I’d been missing out. I’d never been held or touched in this way, either. It wasn’t friendly, nor was it inappropriate. Instead, it was caring, and I felt safe.

Much to my half-asleep dismay, I was laid down on a much gentler surface than the floor. My head was gently supported, and my blanket was draped over me again.

Hearing his footsteps walk away from me, my curiosity was enough to wake me. I softly opened my eyes, seeing Dominic’s large frame. His back was facing me as he began to walk out of the dark room to the kitchen. He wore sweatpants and a simple shirt, showcasing his broad back and shoulders.

In my peripheral vision, I saw it was still dark outside. The pitch black of the night sky brought comfort, knowing I still had time to sleep.

But what was he doing up? Why did he move me? Why would he care if... what did he say, something about my back being sore?

Whatever the reasons, it was a selfless act that he didn’t have to do. Still groggy and very much out of it, I followed him with my eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered after him, without thinking much of the words as they left my lips.

Dominic froze, his shoulders looking tense for a moment before he slowly turned to look at me. His short brown hair was disheveled, and I doubt he’d slept yet tonight, judging from the look on his tired face.

His expression was a mystery to me. Perhaps it was because of my drowsiness or the simple fact that I didn’t know him well. He looked perplexed but gentle. Instead of that same cold glare or the harsh tone I was expecting, he nodded. He stayed there for seconds or minutes, his mind clearly working overtime.

What could he be thinking so hard about? What could possibly be bothering him with the warmth of the flames, dim light, and darkness of the night pouring through the windows? Unlike him, I was utterly content, seconds away from sleep again.

Still feeling his eyes on me, I drifted into a peaceful sleep.

The sound of shuffling papers woke me. I peeked my eyes open, looking at the scene before me. Sitting on the opposite couch, Wyatt was going through two stacks of papers. There was a small vee between his eyebrows, showing his concentration. The red ink pen he held swiftly moved across the pages, noting and grading what were surely student assignments.

The simple act of grading papers looked strangely attractive. He wore jeans and a button-up, his hair slightly less tidy than I usually saw.

My gaze fell to his hands, where they stayed for several minutes. My hands were dainty and thin, the exact opposite of his much more masculine hands. As he wrote, the veins slightly popped, catching my attention. My stomach fluttered, and I wanted to roll my eyes at myself.

Nothing for years, and suddenly, I was turned on by hands of all things? Get it together, Odette.

His pen stopped moving suddenly. When my eyes shifted to his face, he was already staring at me.

My cheeks got rosy, embarrassed that I got caught. I sat up, quickly rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile.

The two braids I put my hair in last night were messy, with random strands sticking out everywhere. I casually wrapped the blanket around my body. This was precisely why I didn’t want to fall asleep down here. He looked perfect, and I looked like a La-La-Loopsie doll.

“Good morning,” I responded.

He seemed amused at something. “You got cold, didn’t you?” He grinned.

I smiled, thankful that it was clear why I was down here so close to the fire. “Cold is an understatement,” I nodded. “I’m glad my fingers and toes are still attached,” I joked, gently wiggling my fingers.

He chuckled. “So am I.” He gestured to the kitchen, “There’s coffee if you’d like some. It’s early, so the others aren’t up yet,” he explained.

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