Page 59 of Shutout
I’m debating it when she says, “Does it hurt a lot?”
If I say yes, would she use it as an excuse to fight or would it make her stay longer?
“It hurts a lot less with you here.”
There’s rustling as she shifts on her side to face me. I’m happy to do the same and turn to my left, folding my left armunder my head. I balance the pea bag on my face as I watch her. She has both hands tucked under her head in a kind of praying position. A few strands of her hair have fallen over her face and they must be tickling her. With my right hand, I brush them away and she stays very still through the motion.
Whatever I thought she might say after that, isn’t what actually comes out of her mouth. “I really think you should put on a shirt.”
“Is this bothering you?” I ask in a droll.
“No,” she says in a calm and level-headed way that annoys me.
“So what, is it my body odor?”
“No, you smell fine.” Fine?Fine?I smell damn amazing after a shower. Is this woman made of steel? I guess that must be it, because she shrugs. “You’re going to get cold.”
“Trust me, I run hot. I normally sleep naked.”
Liv blinks hard and avoids my eyes. “Um, but I mean, you have the frozen bag on your face and your hair is still wet so…”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm down before she can hear the wild thumping in my chest. The problem is that it brings the warm vanilla scent that clings to her and inundates my lungs. I blame the lack of oxygen on what I do next.
Lifting myself up for a moment, I slide my left arm under her head until I replace her pillow with my shoulder. The bag of peas slides off my face and back, where it’s going to stay forgotten now. With my right hand, I pull her against me by her waist. Her hands form a barrier against my chest and they feel like ice on my skin, either from the frozen peas or because she’s the one who was cold.
“See? I’m plenty warm.”
“Ah, yeah. I see.”
I smile into her hair, not even caring that it feels like a knife is stabbing my face. My arm under her neck curls up to hug her shoulders and with my other hand, I rub lazy circles on herback. A shudder racks her body and I hum from deep in my throat. “Looks like you’re the one who was cold.” Or something else.
“It’s an uncharacteristically cold October,” she says with a serious voice. “Lucky for me you’re a furnace, huh?”
“Very lucky,” I say into her hair, my voice surprisingly drowsy.
“You must be tired,” she says, her breath fanning against my neck, soft as a feather.
“Hmm.” I’m not tired, I’m content. I close my eyes anyway, just trying to savor this moment. Liv doesn’t speak again, and after a moment I feel her body relax against mine. That’s the true bliss, knowing she’s comfortable with me.
Our breathing evens with every passing second, and next thing I’m really asleep.
*
I try to shift to my other side, but a weight prevents it. And the weight is warm, too. And it smells delicious, like a dessert I want to run my tongue over.
My eyes pop open. It takes a moment for them to adjust to the dim light of my bedside table. I must’ve left it on overnight. Then I lift my head from the pillow, but all I can see is a head of dark hair. Laying my head back down, I blink up at the ceiling.
It’s Liv. She’s sprawled over me like she owns me.
The most shocking part is how she’s not waking up, even though she can probably feel the furious beating of my pulse against her face, which is buried against my neck. I can feel softness of her chest pressed up against mine. Worse, her thighs straddle my left one. And if that wasn’t all, my right hand found its way under her sweater and yep, her skin is so muchsofter. The softest. So warm. My fingers twitch and the minuscule friction sets me on fire.
I’m breathing fast. Heat travels down my body, focusing on every contact surface. Especially my freaking thigh, all snug against her as if it had any right. I need to—she can’t wake up to this. I have to make this right.
Gritting my teeth like I’m bench pressing twice my body weight, I lift my hand away from her bare back. Liv gives out a little moan and I squeeze my eyes tight. Slowly, I continue removing my right arm from around her.
“No.” The word comes out from her throat like a whine, and I freeze. “Don’t leave me.”
It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking in her sleep. And another moment to figure out it’s probably not me she’s talking about. After all, I’ve never left her. She’s the one who left me.
