“I don’t think so. Sometimes I get the urge, but it looks exactly how I want it to look right now. Any changes to it could make it look worse, and I’m not willing to take that risk. Not with how expensive it was.”
“Even if you might end up liking it more with color?”
She shakes her head, confidence clear in the lift of her chin. “When the grass is already green, why would I look for a greener patch?”
We talk about the cost of tattoos and how addicting they can be until Natalie nods off. At some point, deep into the night, her legs twitch, and she mumbles something that sounds like, “luffoo.” I assume it’s nonsensical sleep talk, and ignore it, but when it happens a second time, not ten minutes later, I wonder if she’s awake. I look down, and her eyes blink open, but quickly fall closed once more. I’m not convinced she’s fully conscious.
“Illuffoo,” she says again, her breath hot against my neck.
“Natalie,” I whisper, cupping her cheek, testing to see if she’s awake. “I can’t hear you, sweetheart.”
Her hand strokes down my arm, her fingers landing on my bicep. “Love you.”
Time stops. The world stops.
Did I…Did I imagine it? Or did Natalie truly just say that?
No, I know what I heard. That doesn’t mean she meant what she said, though. Her eyes aren’t even open anymore.
It meant nothing.
But what if she did mean it? What if she does love me, and the feeling is so consuming, so deep that the words slipped past her lips while unconscious?
The possibility of that doesn’t scare me. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. In fact, I want nothing more than for it to be true. Because I love her too. Of course, I do.
I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point, this curvaceous, clumsy crumb-dropper became the center of my universe. I’m completely fucking gone for her.
Chapter 16
Natalie
Iwake up with the sun streaming through the window, and a layer of crust trailing from my eye to my chin. “Ugh,” I groan, turning onto my side, trying to wipe my face clean. A heavy arm curls around my waist, and a large hand squeezes my belly. My eyes fly open, and I instinctually curl inward.
“Uh-uh. None of that. Don’t hide from me.” Winston’s gravelly voice has me clenching my thighs together. I push back against him, his hard dick poking me in the ass.
“Fuck,” he growls, grinding against me. “Do you know what you do to me?”
I arch my back, placing my hand over his and guiding it to my breast, squeezing it with him. Using my other hand, I reach back and grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips an inch from mine. “Hm, can’t say that I do. I think you should show me,” I whisper, before leaning in for a kiss.
Then I remember how gross I felt the moment my eyes opened, and wince as I pull away. He sees it. “What’s wrong?”
I rub my lips roughly, every muscle clenching in disgust and embarrassment. “My breath must be awful. Run away. Save yourself.”
Winston’s long fingers wrap around my wrist and pull it away. “That’s absurd. Come back here.”
I duck my head and try to wriggle away, but he’s too strong. I’m immobile in his hold as he pins me against him as we lay on our sides, facing each other. He smacks his lips together, his gaze lifting to the ceiling. “You taste the same as always.”
“And that means?”
“Sweet. Warm. Like you.”
My heart squeezes. How anyone can make barf-scented morning breath sound pleasant is beyond me. I’m assuming he’s lying his tiny, delectable ass off to make me feel less self-conscious, but I think I’m okay with that.
His hand lifts to my forehead. “Shit.” He sounds more than a little annoyed. I wonder if I’m the source as he rolls out of bed, releasing me altogether. “You’re still hot.”
“Thanks?”
He chuckles as he gets up, comes around to my side, and grabs the thermometer. “Your head. Open up.”
