Page 10 of Even Vampires Bleed
It’s just a hug, but I know I shouldn’t say yes. I know, because I’m a hopeless romantic and cuddling with him will inadvertently lead to me seeing more in the gesture than there is. But like I said, I’m a hopeless romantic, and it’s been a while since anyone held me at night.
I know I shouldn’t say yes, but before I know it, the word has left my lips, and Léandre’s eyes sparkle with mischief again.
What have I done?
He pushes the door with his heel and makes a beeline for me.
“What are you doing?” I half-yell, half-whisper when he throws me on my bed and starts tugging at his pants.
“I’m not going to sleep in a suit,” he says, as if he isn’t currently getting naked in front of me without a care in the world.
“You’re not helping your case right now, big guy,” I tell him with a snort.
He doesn’t stop, though. The shoes are the first to go when he realizes that he can’t remove his pants without removing them, too, and then the shirt goes away, and I’m not even sure he removes the button properly because I think I see one jumping under the wardrobe that’s on the right side of the room, next to the door to my bathroom.
When the pants finally go, his sigh is so loud that I laugh at how ridiculous he’s acting. He keeps his boxer briefs on, and then looks at me like I’ve done something wrong.
“You can’t sleep in that dress,” he says matter-of-factly.
“I know, but I feel like if I stop looking in your direction even just for a minute, someone,” I look pointedly at him, “is going to believe that I’m plotting my way out of my own room and won’t come back at all. And I refuse to sleep only in my underwear.”
Léandre brings his index finger and his thumb against his chin and rubs it with a pose that looks so staged that I know he’s doing it on purpose.
I’m still amused when he finally yells, “Aha!” like he found the answer to how deep is the universe and says, “You can sleep in my shirt,” with a wave of his hand in the direction of said discarded shirt.
I shake my head. This is silly.
As much as I know I shouldn’t entertain him the way I’m doing now—and I definitely know and will gladly blame it on the alcohol tomorrow—I turn my back to him and go to my wardrobe and pick my cutest pajamas.
Who said I should look like a deranged raccoon in the morning?
I don’t give Léandre enough time to pester me, and I slip inside the bathroom. It might have been okay for him to undress in front of me, but I’m not going to do the same. I need a little privacy.
Still, I hurry to remove my heels, my dress, and my bra before putting on my pajamas. I ponder the idea of only wearing the shirt and not the shorts, since it reaches mid thigh but decide against it.
Oh, yes, I’m keeping the shorts.
That man might look like a snack, but he’s so drunk that there is no way I’ll let him do more than hug me.
I take a huge breath and then steel myself.
And then I’m finally coming out of the bathroom.
When I cross over to the bed, he is already in it, lying on his side, with the blanket open. His eyes are closed, but still he seems to feel when I get near.
“Come to bed, Little Luciole. I promise not to do anything you won’t ask,” he tells me without even opening his eyes.
His voice is groggy, as if sleep has already started claiming him.
Well, poor decision, here I come,I tell myself as I slip under the cover and between his arms.
Now, to let sleep claim me, too.
7
Cassiopé
Sleep didn’t really come. Or at least not for me. Léandre fell asleep super fast, and I don’t know what he dreamed about, but it must have been very exciting, because I could feel him pressing against my back.
