Page 39 of The Last Time

I wasn’t sick with a fever, and he wasn’t lying there with a remote in his hand focusing on a T.V. instead of me.

Maybe I needed to be more specific with the universe when I asked to be in bed with this man.

“I’m curious what entertains you, Charlotte.” He cracks a smile as he continues looking through my history. “You seem to enjoy light stuff with humor.”

“Nice observation,” I say sarcastically.

“Seriously, do you not like to mix it up with any drama or anything?” he asks as he continues to click through the app. He looks over at me.

I shrug my shoulders. “I like to be happy when I’m watching something. Plus, I really only watch something before bed. If I stir up too many emotions, I can’t sleep.”

He clicks play on the first season of one of my favorite shows.

“I’ve never seen this,” he admits.

I’m super confused as to what’s going on. Is he going to watch this with me in bed? He’s acting like this is no big deal.

When he doesn’t say anything or look like he’s planning on getting up, I follow his lead and begin to watch the show with him. I guess this is happening.

Every time he chuckles at something, I feel my heart flutter in my chest. This man does something to me; he always has. I wonder if he always will.

That’s a scary thought. Will I always react to him this way, even if I’m married and happy? Get out of your head, Charlotte. When you’re married, you won’t be living here and likely will never see him again. The thought alone of never seeing him again brings a pang to my chest.

I notice his breathing has gotten a bit heavier, so I steal a glance at him, hoping he doesn’t catch me looking. His eyes are closed while one arm rests on his stomach and the other above his head.

He’s sleeping. Asher is sleeping in my bed. I take the chance to look at him uninterrupted. My hand itches to run across his strong chest, which looks well-defined even through his shirt. His lips look so soft and full.

Well, I’m not going to wake him up. He is a single dad, after all; he’s probably exhausted.

Instead, I watch the show and try to let my body rest. I still feel awful. The body aches are the worst, and I feel like I just ran a marathon. But after the first episode, I begin to shiver again.

My fever is back, and no matter how bundled up I am, I can’t seem to get warm.

I look at Asher, feeling his warmth next to me, and move closer. The closer I get, the more the chill in my body begins to fade. I keep inching closer until my entire body is pushed up against his. Then I close my eyes and rest in the warmth of our body heat.

The next thing I know, I’m waking up wrapped in his arms. His scent surrounds me, a masculine scent. It’s subtle but smells like a woodsy, smoky aroma.

I wiggle around to try and get comfortable, but his arms close around me tightly. I look up, and his eyes meet mine.

“You fell asleep,” I say to him.

“I did,” he replies. “You feeling any better?”

“Actually, I am.” I notice my aches and pains are gone now.

“I think you sweat out your fever.”

I have to think about it for a second, and then I notice that my shirt is drenched in sweat. I move my hand from resting on his chest.

I think I might die right here, right now.

“Oh my god! I sweat all over you.”

I push myself off the bed and sit up. This is mortifying. Why did I have to sweat out my fever during the one hour when we were cuddling? Does the universe hate me? What did I do to piss it off?

Asher doesn’t look phased at all. He sits up. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “That’s a good thing.”

“But I sweat all overyou,” I say with emphasis. “That’s gross.”

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