Page 32 of Handle with Care
“No… I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to sleep now. And Dylan… don’t sleep on the floor. Please. It’s filthy.”
“I’m not sure that it is. This looks like a nice hotel where they, you know, clean. But I could use the duvet if it makes you feel better.”
He groans.
“Fine, fine.” I shake my head at him. “I won’t sleep on the floor.”
Fuck, this is torture.
But I stay in my chair, turning on the small reading light to continue with my book. I stare at the pages and keep rereading the same passage over and over till my eyes blur with fatigue. Nothing registers.
Eventually, his breathing’s deep and even, and I know he’s sleeping. Only then do I peek at his prosthesis and then at his face, relaxed in sleep. As for the prosthesis, it’s sleek and looks like something from the future, in artfully molded plastic and metal components that look as high-end as the rest of Will.
After a long struggle with myself, I shut off the light, undress to my boxers because it’s a hot night and I need to wear the same clothes tomorrow. Finally, I get into the other side of the bed, excruciatingly aware of how close he is to me.
It’s impossible to sleep under these conditions. Or do anything else. I can hardly get off. Or risk a hard-on in bed. No way.
I desperately try to think of unsexy thoughts.
Think about something else, Dylan.
I try not to sweat. Or panic about the idea that I’m sleeping with my rival turned frenemy in a bed somewhere in northern England. Even if he’s not feeling well. Especially because he’s not feeling well. And now I know more than he wanted me to know about him. I don’t feel great about that, and I can’t help but think what a weird day this has been together. In turn, he knows more about me than I meant to reveal too.
I can’t believe I mentioned my mom.
And I can’t believe he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Or, I suppose, a leg. I’m not sure which reveal is more shocking. Plus, it sucks that he has a migraine, and I’m sure he’s not feeling great aboutbeing sick in front of me either. I’m glad I’ve been able to be useful to him at least today.
I guess we’re both vulnerable now. Never mind we’re both practically naked in a bed together.
A small bed.
Worse, I don’t even know what to feel other than overwhelmed as his heat radiates beside me. And it’s going to be a very long, very sleepless night.
Despite the odds, I must have fallen asleep because I’m waking up in a strange bed. Which isn’t exactly an unusual thing for me, finding myself in a random bed. At least it’s more comfortable than the bed in my flat share. Then I’m aware of something else, that someone’s arm is across my chest as I lie on my back. I try to blink away sleep, getting my bearings.
I glance to the side to clock the arm’s owner. It’s everything I can do not to swear and hop out of bed and all the way into the next country. It’s not because I’m horrified to see Will.
Just shocked. Very shocked.
Did something happen?
Last night tumbles back in a blur. Migraine. No sex.
I’m totally disappointed as I come to terms with the fact that nothing actually did happen. Which should be good, right? Excellent news, because he was ill, and I’m hardly taking advantage. And there’s the whole frenemy status thing again. Still. If anything, he’s taking advantage, right?
No harm in this, though. It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine.
He sleeps on through my silent screaming meltdown, positively blissful.
I don’t dare move. Or breathe.
Fuck, he’s actually really hot? I glance at his face. Yup, definitely.
I squeeze my eyes in despair.
This is terrible. Terrible. When did I start having a thing for Will, of all people? For crying out loud, this is a problem.
No way. No how.
