Page 66 of The Carver

“It’s okay?—”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you there, sweetheart.” He squeezed me to him, giving me a burst of his warmth.

I never felt unsafe in this apartment. Didn’t see anybody in the building who didn’t belong there. But Bastien was the man who made me feel safe, who chased away all my cares and worries.

“Come on.” My oversized shirt had dropped over my shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to the exposed skin. He moved to my neck then the back of my ear. With every kiss, the tension left my muscles, the grip on my heart loosened, and I breathed easier. “Pack your things.”

It was almost four in the morning when we entered his bedroom.

He carried my bag and suitcase to the closet, a place I’d never seen before. It was a walk-in closet where his jeans and shirts were hung on hangers and his shoes were on the bottom rack. But most of the space was empty since he didn’t need it all because his wardrobe was so simple. Like I was in a hotel, he placed my suitcase on the table in the center and unzipped it, making it easy for me to access it. He hung up the clothes that I’d brought on hangers.

I stilled when I noticed all the guns mounted to the back wall. Handguns, rifles, shotguns…

Bastien followed my gaze but didn’t comment.

I set my makeup bag on the counter in his bathroom and then helped myself to his drawer to find a shirt for bed. I never askedhis permission to do that, but he never objected to it. Didn’t seem to care if I went through his drawers, that I had access to his closet. The man appeared to have nothing to hide. “It’s okay if you need to get back to work.” He seemed to be up all hours of the day, sometimes awake during the daytime and sometimes up all night. Someone else would be devastated by the irregular sleeping schedule, but it didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“I’m all yours, sweetheart.” He tugged down the sheets to the bed and got inside.

I set my phone on the nightstand then joined him. “Ugh, I have to get up in three hours.”

He spooned me from behind and squeezed me to him, his large size making the mattress dip underneath his weight and tilting me toward him. His face was pressed into the back of my neck, his gentle breaths moving my hair slightly. “You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart.”

“I can’t not go.”

“It’s called a sick day.”

“But my boss knows I’m not sick.”

“But you’re fucking him, so you can do whatever the hell you please.” He kissed my shoulder. “You aren’t going. We’ll sleep in and go out to breakfast.”

“God, that sounds nice.”

He kissed me again. “Then it’s settled.”

When I woke up, it was past eleven.

I’d slept so well, without any nightmares, and it seemed as if that horrible dream had never happened in the first place. When I stepped into the bathroom, Bastien was in the shower, like he’d just finished his morning workout.

It was the first time I’d had my things at his place, so after I used the toilet, I stood at the counter, brushed my teeth, and got ready for the day.

He stepped out of the shower and dried off with the towel before he walked to me, buck naked with plump muscles from his workout, and he grabbed my ass underneath my shirt and kissed me. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

He moved to the other sink and started to shave.

I watched him in the mirror, stared at the tight muscles of his body, the lines that segmented the different groups under his skin, the way he was so ripped he looked like a living sculpture.

He caught my stare and met my eyes.

I looked away.

He continued to shave.

When I looked at him again, he had a smirk on his face.

I was careful not to stare again as I put on my makeup and did my hair. I was blessed with dry hair, so I could go several dayswithout washing it and it would look exactly the same. Another reason I didn’t work out, because why take a shower when I didn’t have to?

---