Page 74 of If Ever

16

I enter my bedroom expecting to find Chelsea watching TV or on her phone, but the room is dark, lit only by the outside light streaking through the open blinds. Chelsea is buried under the covers. I quietly close the door to keep the noise from the living room out, and turn on the nightstand light. She's on her stomach with her face turned to the side, her lips parted in deep slumber.

"Chelsea," I call softly so as not to startle her. Her breathing is slow, her eyelashes rest like butterfly wings on her cheeks, her pert little nose is tucked against the pillow. "Chelsea, I'm back," I say a little louder this time, but she still doesn't stir. I laugh. She is totally out.

I sit on the side of the bed, wishing I could let her sleep, but it's a busy day. Hell, what day isn't, but I've only got an hour before I've got to get back to the theatre. I could put her in a cab to her hotel, but it's her first time in the city and I'd rather see her there myself.

I lift a lock of honey-blond hair that's splayed over her shoulder and draw its feathery softness across her cheek. She twitches, but doesn't wake. I grin at the slumbering beauty and lie on my side facing her and run the hair across her forehead and down her slender nose. Her nose wrinkles in response and she pulls away.

"Good morning, sleepy head," I whisper as her shoulders draw up and she emits a little yawn. When she realizes where she is, she smiles, and I chuckle. "There you are."

Her eyes blink open. "Oh, no! Did I over sleep and miss your show?" She rolls on her side to face me and pushes her hair out of her face.

"No, but you've been snoozing like a bear.

"I'm sorry. I meant to be awake and ready when you got here. I don't want to miss anything, but I was so tired."

She stretches like a graceful cat. Her outstretched arms push the covers away revealing a gray T-shirt. I could swear she was wearing a blue dress earlier.

"What are you wearing?"

Chelsea is confused for a moment and looks down.

It looks like the T-shirt I wore yesterday. "Is that my shirt?"

Her eyes dart away and she swallows. "My dress was uncomfortable."

"But why are you wearing my old shirt? You should have grabbed a fresh one from my dresser." I have to admit, it's damn flattering that she's wearing my shirt.

Her face turns a shade of pink.

"What?"

"I like how it smells," she says and shrinks under the comforter covering her face.

I stare at the lump in my bed and tug the covers back, not sure I heard correctly. "You like how I smell?"

She nods and ducks back under. I laugh. "Well, that's a first."

And it's adorable as hell. I nudge the covers down to reveal her hiding behind a mass of hair. With my index finger I lift the tousled hair away and look into lovely amber eyes smiling back at me. I glance quickly at the clock and notice her dress draped across the chair next to the bed, and freeze.

"Chelsea, what else are you wearing under there?" She bites the edge of her lip. "You are wearing something other than my shirt, aren't you?" A rush of heat shoots south.

She nods. "Panties."

"Bloody hell." My eyebrows must hit my hairline as I picture her long bare legs sliding between the sheets of my bed. This fact pummels me in the chest.

I clear my throat. "A gorgeous woman is sleeping in my bed, wearing panties and my T-shirt." And then I add, "Because she likes how I smell." This image of her is blazoned in my mind never to be erased.

Her cheeks flush. "Oh God, you must think I'm throwing myself at you." She pushes up onto her elbows. "I wasn't. I mean, I'm not. I just wanted to be comfortable."

"I know you weren't." Which is another reason it's so hot. The power of her innocence is intoxicating. "So, what color?" I ask with a sly grin.

She's confused for a second. "Color? Oh!" She laughs when she realizes I'm asking the color of her panties. She concentrates for a second, her brow furrowed. "Lavender."

And now the vision of her beneath my sheets is complete. "I like lavender."

"Oh yeah?" she raises an eyebrow.

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