Page 44 of Charlie Sunshine
“You okay there, Rip Van Winkle?” I tease. “You have got your own bed, you know.”
He smiles, his teeth very white against the tanned skin of his face. “Yours is better. I don’t know what you do to your bed, Charlie, but it smells so good.” He sniffs my pillow and lets out a throaty sound of happiness.
With a mixture of pleased surprise and acute horror, I feel my cock start to plump up. Surprise, because it hasn’t done that in so long I swear it had forgotten it had another function. Horror, because this is my Misha.
I shake my head to clear it. “It’s called laundry. You should try it.”
“I do laundry,” he says indignantly, stripping his jacket off and throwing it cavalierly on the bed before stretching out again. “It just never smells as nice as yours.”
“Hmm, I think that might be a ruse to get me to do your washing.”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
“Then it most definitely wasn’t a ruse.”
I tut and pick up the jacket, which makes my condition immeasurably worse, because the fabric smells like bergamot. And then I notice, surreptitiously, how fucking good Misha looks on my pale green sheets. His strong jaw is dusted with stubble that makes his eyes look impossibly blue, like the sky on a lazy summer morning. His waist is narrow and his legs long. I hastily turn away and put his jacket on a chair.
“So, was it good?” he asks, watching lazily as I take care of the rest of the items in my case.
I smile at him, strange thoughts thankfully dissipating. “It was good. It’s always lovely to spend some time with my mum and Phil. I love Norfolk.”
“Could you live there?” The trepidation in his voice indicates he might believe I plan to run off and buy a house immediately.
I consider it. “Maybe when I’m a lot older, but not now.”
He nods and seems to relax. “What did you do?”
He already knows this, so I don’t know why he’s asking, but I oblige him. “Went for long walks along the beach, ate Phil’s dinners, slept for what felt like days, helped around the farm, and went to the hospital.”
His eyes sharpen, and now I know why he started with those questions. He was easing me into it. “And the hospital staff were happy with you?”
I smile at him. “Yes, I’ve already told you this.”
“I wanted to hear it face to face.” He’s worried I’ve been lying again to make him happy. I think it’s going to take a while for him to get over that.
“It seems that the reason for the increased turnswasbecause of the change in tablets. Once I got back on the correct ones, it didn’t take long to stabilise. They think I could be seizure-free soon.”
“And you feel better in yourself?” His eyes are piercing, focussing on me with the intensity that makes him such a successful man.
Heat throbs in my groin again, and it takes me a moment to realisehe’s waiting for an answer. I nod firmly. “I do. Just to get through a day without a turn was such a luxury. I didn’t realise how disassociated I felt, how tired and worn I was, until I had a whole day clear.”
“And it’s been just one turn this week?”
I grin at him. “Yep.”
He sits up. “We need to celebrate.”
I eye him suspiciously. “How? No trouble, Misha.”
He assumes his angelic expression. “I feel deeply wounded that I say we’ll celebrate and you leap to the erroneous conclusion that I’ll get you into trouble.”
“Well done with the big words,” I say wryly. “And my reasons are well-founded. Last time we celebrated we nearly got arrested.”
“Pfft,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “Not going to happen again. That was all Jesse’s fault anyway.” I open my mouth to continue the discussion, but he leans forward, happiness lighting his eyes. “But this isyourcelebration, so we can do it however you want.”
“Anyway I want?” I ask.
