Page 48 of Saving Ren
It’s been a long fucking day, and despite staring up at the ceiling for what feels like forever, I must eventually go off to sleep.
* * *
Rollingonto the floor and landing on my knees, I instinctively know to put my hand out to steady myself on the coffee table. I’ve no idea how long I’ve been asleep, and I’m not sure what woke me.
Tapping my phone, it lights up to display three-twenty am. Just as I sit my arse back on my sofa, I hear it, Lauren’s talking in her sleep.
Standing up, I make my way to the bedroom. When I walk into the room, she’s still lying curled on her side, hands tucked under her chin, but has hooked one leg out of the bed.
She’s facing away from the lamp I left on, so I can barely make out her face in the dim light, but there’s no mistaking the whimper, followed by a loud sob coming from her.
Moving to the edge of the bed, I crouch down beside her. She continues to whimper and mumble, so I lay the palm of one hand on her shoulder, and with my other, I brush her hair from her face. She mumbles something about angels and seems to settle. When her breathing evens out, I move my hand away.
Still feeling awkward being so close as she sleeps, I back my creepy arse towards the door, but before I reach it, Lauren turns on to her back, arms and legs flailing, before curling into the foetal position on her side and shouting a loud, “No,” followed by more whimpering and mumbling. I go back to the sofa and collect my pillow before returning to the bedroom and climbing into bed. Curling myself in behind her, it’s only when I rest my hand on her hip, the whimpering and mumbling stops.
Her breathing once again evens out as she begins to snore. . . not so quietly.
I should probably feel at least a small shred of guilt for climbing into bed with a practically unconscious woman, but I don’t. As long as Lauren gets the sleep she obviously needs, I’ll deal with the consequences of our sleeping arrangements when she wakes up later.
I don’t remember the last time I went to sleep with a woman next to me. I’ve never brought one back to my home, and I usually only hang around after sex for any length of time to be polite, and that varies according to the situation. Sometimes I’ll leave a woman sleeping, other times we might have an awkward conversation before I head off. Very occasionally, I’ll hook up with someone with zero expectations, and we’ll end our time together with a ‘Thanks, I’ll see you around.’ Those kinds of nights are so few and far between that lately, it’s been simpler to rely on my right hand.
The fact I like my relationships drama free and to last just the one night has me again wondering what the actual fuck I’m doing, feeling so fucking happy to be in my bed, wrapped around a woman I barely know, who’s wearing my clothes, and smelling of my shampoo and body wash.
After gently kissing her temple, I lay my head next to hers and only have what feels like a few moments to debate with myself if this is really what I want or need in my life before finally drifting back off to sleep.
Chapter 16
Lauren
As I dragmyself back to consciousness, I fight to open my eyes and remind myself exactly where I went to sleep last night. My brain takes a very long moment to catch up as I process that I’m way too hot, and nothing smells familiar. The fabric softener the pillow has been washed in isn’t what I use, my own body doesn’t smell of me, and what the fuck am I wearing?
Blinking a few times, a bare-chested Gabriel Wild finally comes into all its glorious focus. Whenmyeyes travel up his throat, over his darkly stubbled jaw, perfectly straight nose, and sharp cheekbones, they meethis, looking down at me. I quickly close mine again, hoping that by blocking the beautiful distraction in the bed beside me, it will prompt my brain into remembering how exactly we ended up here. Together. In his bed.
I come up with nothing.
Slowly reopening my eyes, I’m drawn first to the smirk he’s wearing, then back to his eyes looking down at me.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hey,” I croak in response. Clearing my throat, I lick my lips before gesturing with my hand between us. “What. . . how did. . ?”
“You were dreaming, sobbing, crying, talking. The only way I could stop you was by resting my hand on you.”
I’m lying on my side as he sits with his back to the headboard, looking up, I focus on his bare chest for a moment, but that just makes my mind blank out, so instead, my gaze traces the path of his happy trail to where it disappears beneath the doona. Lifting it, I nod in confirmation, or maybe it’s admiration, of the fact he’s wearing a pair of jocks, and nothing else.
“And you obviously needed to be nearly naked to do that?” I question.
He shrugs.
“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t plan it that way?”
This time I shrug. Before I get a chance to ask for an explanation, he gives me one.
“I went down to get your meds from the car, when I came back up you were asleep on the sofa. I debated leaving you there but thought you might be uncomfortable, so I carried you to bed. I got out of my jeans and T, set myself up on the sofa, and was sleeping out there until you woke me up around three-thirty this morning talking and crying in your sleep.”
I remain curled on my side, looking up at him as he talks.
“What was I saying?” I ask while trying to recall any dreams I might’ve had.
