Page 49 of Loving the Legend
“Sure.”
“Cool. Pick the movie. I’m gonna grab us water.” He jumps off the bed and throws me the remote.
I scan the room and double back to the bottle of cologne on top of his dresser. I pad over and bring it to my nose.This is it.I read the label…notes of sandalwood, Balsam of Peru,leather, and musk.I spritz some into the air. It’s amazing, but it’s missing something.
I return the bottle to the dresser and lie back down. I stare at the dancing flames of his fireplace, forgetting to look for a movie when he returns.
“Need something to change into?”
“I’m sleeping in here?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, why not? It’ll be more comfortable than when we fell asleep on the couch on Christmas.”
He removes his shirt, revealing his tats, nipple ring, and chiseled abs. My gaze trails down to the V-shaped muscular grooves of his Adonis belt.
Fuck! I can’t sleep next to him. The day’s been torture enough.
“T-that’s how you sleep?”
He looks down at his chest. “Yeah. I feel trapped otherwise.”
“Cool,” I reply, dragging out the word.
Those abs. Fuck me.
His gaze falls to my lower lip, tugged between my teeth. He nods and I remember he asked a question.
“Uh, yeah. Can I borrow an old T-shirt?”
He tosses one to me.
I drop my jeans and pull off my shirt. I raise his tee over my head and pause. My eyes close, inhaling its scent. It’shim—the scent that’s missing from the cologne.
I think the move goes unnoticed, but when my head emerges through the neck of the shirt, his lips are turned slightly upward.
We climb under the covers. His bed is so wide, you could fit another person between us.
“Congrats on the win or whatever,” I say, turning to face him.
“So salty.” He smirks. “Thanks. You made us work for it. I’m not usually this exhausted after a game.”
And that’s all we say about basketball.
We talk about our travel experiences. I have a single stamp on my passport. I vacationed in Paris with my parents right before my freshman year of high school. I recall the Eiffel Tower lit up at night against the blue sky. We also lost hours inside of the Louvre. Mom and I fell in love with an old bookstore with quotes from books written on the walls. There was a wall of portraits of famous authors like James Baldwin, Maya Angelou, and Virginia Woolf. There were beds tucked all over the two stories. A placard explained that tens of thousands of people have slept there, and in exchange for lodging, they’re asked to make the bed in the morning, read a book, and help out in the store. I loved that place. We ate at the same bakery every day, making our way through the menu, and sat in an idyllic garden. Sid's passport has way more stamps. He shared stories about vacations in the Caribbean, Bali, and Brazil.
After over an hour of talking, my eyes are heavy from exhaustion and Sid’s yawned at least a half dozen times. Deciding to stop fighting it, we cut off the unwatched TV and call it a night. Shuffling closer toward the edge of the bed, I face away from him and pull the covers over my head. I think I might doze off any second, but close to an hour later, I’m still awake.
“Come here,” Sid’s gravelly voice commands.
Startled, my head whips in his direction. He has the covers lifted, inviting me into his arms.
I search his face to see if he’s serious. He tilts his head, gesturing for me to come. I’m sure I’ll overthink it tomorrow, but I scoot over, and he wraps me up in his arms. I take a deep breath to slow the rapid drumming in my chest. His massive chest is warm and, god, he smells amazing. I relax into his embrace, letting the weight of my head rest against his pecs. I scoot back a little, hoping my dick stays soft. The rise and fall of his chest lull me to sleep.
I’m ripped awake.My first thought is that a low-magnitude earthquake caused the bed to tremble. Are there even earthquakes in Miami? I follow the sound of a soft murmur to a trembling Sid.
My face is wet as I lift it from his chest.
“Hey, hey,” I whisper, reaching over to tap his shoulder. My hand snaps back from the feverish heat of his sweaty skin.
