I don’t know why or how, but what we’re doing right now feels more intimate than what we did in the elevator, against the apartment wall, and in my bedroom an hour ago.
“Yeah?” he says, as he looks up at me through his curls.
There he goes, again. Being considerate. Giving me an exit strategy. Letting me know I’m the one who gets to decide. It’s especially touching considering I’m the one with the rules that seem to be bending, breaking, crumbling down whenever he’s around.
I don’t know why I don’t send him home at this realization. I guess I’m not done with him just yet. So instead, I interlace my fingers with his and pull him toward the sofa. “Yeah.”
When he sits on the sofa and opens his arms, I don’t hesitate and melt into the comfiest grooves of his body.
I am definitely in trouble.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A gentle knock wakes me. Ben enters and stops in his tracks.
I look over at Xander and see him asleep for a moment before he yawns himself awake. “Good morning,” Xander says with another yawn. He proceeds to stretch his body like he’s been out like a light for a solid eight hours.
He looks different.
Like this is the first time I’ve seen him.
I thought waking up to his bed face when he slept a solid four hours was something else. But today, holy mother of hotness.
Xander is so relaxed even his curls seem to have relaxed into a soft wave. All the furrows and lines that used to be etched into his face have melted. The red that once rimmed his hazel eyes—gone. The hard edge to his manner, replaced with a softness. The threat of a smile on his lips … permanent.
I know, without a doubt, that this person right here, is peak Xander Miller.
Xander Miller on a solid night’s sleep.
It sets a dull yearning between my ribs.
Xander reaches over and lifts my hand to his mouth, dragging a kiss over my knuckles. The act has me hyperfocused on his lips and his fingers, turning the seemingly innocent kiss into something deeper.
Hotter.
There’s a loud cough, interrupting us. We both look at Ben, who for the first time is smiling while interrupting us.
“Xander, you slept for a total of seven hours. That’s your new record,” Ben says, ready to replace his previous announcement to the Guinness World Records with this one.
I turn to look at Xander. A smile spreads across his face. His hardened features rearrange themselves in front of me. Relaxed, comfortable—happy, even.
“How?” I say, not taking my eyes off Xander even while I talk to Ben.
“I’d say somewhere between his cognitive behavioral therapy sessions and his new sleep habits,” Ben says, flipping through his charts, even though he clearly already knew the answer. “And you,” he adds.
“Me? How didIhelp Xander fall asleep?” I haven’t had coffee yet. I can’t be expected to have a filter.
“You know, coming here with me, being a supportive girlfriend,” Xander says, cutting Ben off before he can answer. Right. Play along, I remind myself.
Ben nods. “I’m sure that’s part of it. It also likely has something to do with the feeling of safety Xander has around you. His cortisol levels lower significantly as the night goes along.”
I nod. It’s all I can manage.
I tune out the rest of whatever Ben is yammering on about.
He feels safe around you.
The funny thing is, after yesterday, I feel safe around Xander too.
