Page 33 of Heartbeats and Hashtags
It's a dangerous line of thinking, and I force my mind elsewhere, like planning tomorrow's travel adjustments and texting my friend Chuck, who owes me poker money.
Anything to distract from the aching spreading through my body at Everly's nearness.
This assignment was supposed to be straightforward, but I broke the cardinal rule of allowing things to get complicated, and I didn’t even realize it was happening. Still, as I listen to Everly breathing steadily into sleep, I don’t regret falling for her. Not when being near her makes me feel truly at peace for the first time in forever.
I turn around again, adjusting myself to try and get comfortable enough to sleep. Rustling sheets. Everly's breathing pattern has changed — she's awake too.
“Cole?” Her whisper cuts through the darkness.
I freeze, feigning sleep. I should ignore her.
“Yeah?” I rasp out finally.
She inhales sharply at my answer, the air between us suddenly electric.
“You can come over here, you know,” she says softly. “That couch can't be comfortable. You basically don't…fit on it.”
I remain silent. The sofa truly does feel like its frame might snap beneath me. Yet crossing that invisible line feels…dangerous.
I shift again, the undersized blanket leaving half my body exposed and chilled.
“It wouldn't be appropriate.” It’s getting hard to concentrate, to remember all the reasons why I should not join her.
Everly huffs in exasperation. I glance over to see her scoot herself to the very edge of the mattress, sheet tucked chastely under her arms.
“See? Plenty of space, nothing inappropriate about it,” she asserts, a hint of challenge in her sleepy voice.
Arguments war in my mind. What if I get no sleep on this sofa and I'm too tired tomorrow and a threat gets past me? She could be kidnapped while I yawn and I'm unfocused...
“Just get over here,” Everly interrupts my spiral impatiently. “Stop overanalyzing the morality of sharing a bed.”
I scowl in the darkness. She can be infuriating. With a grunt, I kick off the blanket and cross the short distance between us, aware of her eyes tracking me as I slide beneath cool sheets.
We lie rigidly on our designated sides, both staring at the ceiling. The familiarity of this mundane act feels far more illicit than it should.
“See? Not so bad, harmless,” Everly murmurs into the tense silence. But her voice tremors, and heat spreads through me. This feels like anything but harmless.
My eyes trace her silhouette in the shadows “Get some rest, Everly,” I say gruffly, rolling away from the temptation of her.
I wake up a few hours later, noticing it’s still dark out, so it must be the middle of the night. Everly is spooning me. I, a 6’4” man, am being spooned by her. Luckily she’s tall for a woman, so she can fit around most of me. Her arm is drooped over my abdomen and her hand is resting dangerously close to my crotch.Fuck. The tips of her fingers are grazing against my hardness.
A traitorous part of my brain instantly wonders what it would feel like to have her hands wrapped around me. To have her stroking me. This is not a situation I shouldeverbe in with a client, but with Everly, right now, I can’t seem to find the usual fight in me to care.
She stirs slightly, shifting, pressing her body into mine further. This is torture, I think. I must have done something wrong in my past life to deserve this. Maybe past Cole was involved in crime, adultery, or…
“Cole?” Everly whispers, making me tense. I hadn’t noticed her breathing change from sleeping to awake.
“Yeah?” My voice is low and strained.
“What’s…going on?” she asks gingerly.
“We’re spooning,” I deadpan.
My eyes are closed, and she’s still holding me from behind, but I swear I canfeelthe eye roll she gives.
“Between us,” she clarifies.
I shift, extremely aware of my hard dick pulsing with blood only millimeters away from her fingertips. It ishighlydistracting.
