43
Nora
I wake slowly, the way you do when the world feels safe. It’s still dark out, but the feeling of the new day is in the air.
There’s no alarm, no panic. Just warmth. Blankets. The faint weight of a heavy arm stretched across my hip. And him.
Jericho.
I’m sandwiched between the soft back of the couch and his heated body and can barely breathe, but there’s no chance I’m moving. He has a perfectly nice bedroom, but somehow this worn-out couch feels cozier than any plush bed would. Jericho got the fireplace going, and we watched it for some time before we went to sleep. I want to start the fire again, so he will wake up to a warm, cozy room, but I’m scared this moment might vanish if I move. So I just watch him for a while.
The lights are off, and the small night fixture is still on in the kitchen but it’s dim.
The lights are off.
The lights are off.The overhead. The lamp. All those lights I see through the windows every night. Somehow he fell asleep without them.
I wonder if he’ll notice when he wakes up.
I reach out and gently trail my fingers across his shoulder. Not enough to wake him but enough to feel the shape of him. Real. Palpable. Here.
He stirs, slowly blinking his eyes open. They look confused for a moment before they land on me. For a beat, he doesn’t move and then exhales slowly. “You’re still here.”
I nod—funny how he must have been scared of the same thing because it feels too good to be true.
He watches me a second longer. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“I’m glad you did.” I add with a cheeky smile, “You wore yourself out.”
“Only myself?” He tickles my ribs, making me laugh. Then his eyes flick around the room, panicked. “Did you turn the lights off?”
I shake my head. “No. They were off when I woke up.”
He frowns like he doesn’t quite believe it—but lets it go, leaving me wondering if this is a good time to ask about his obsession with indoor lights.
While I’m contemplating the way to properly form a question, he sits up, rubbing his hand over his face. The blanket slips low across his hips, and I get distracted, forgetting all my good intentions. He’s not wearing anything. And I meananything. He tried to put his boxers back on right after the fabulous act, but I threatened him with putting clothes on too since I wasn’t going to walk around naked alone, so he quickly dropped them to the floor. Where they still remain.
“I bought a leather couch.”
“That’s… random. Congratulations?” I try smiling but fail because a couch purchase is the very last thing on my mind.
“Now I have to return it.”
“Oh.” I’m still not following where we’re going with this question, but I guess he’s about to let me know in his Jericho way. I just hope it’s not because he’s decided to take off. “Why?”
“Because of you.”
“Me?” It’s getting odder and odder. This is not how I imagined a morning after sexy times to go.
“You.” His hand lands on my belly. “It’s too cold for you to sleep on leather.”
“Oh.” My exhale of relief is so loud, it’s embarrassing.
“Yeah.” His voice turns sleepy. “Since we’re planning on this,” he squeezes my flesh with his hand, “happening over and over again.”
A giggle is the only appropriate response I have.
“One moment.” He carefully untangles himself from me, stands up, and heads to the bathroom, leaving the door open.
