Then, she comes back and helps me into them. By the time she's done, I'm starting to feel dizzy with exhaustion.
“Get in bed,” she says, and I listen, sliding under the covers.
But as she turns to leave, I catch her wrist. “Stay, please. I…don’t want to be alone tonight.”
I’ve played it cool too long now. But at the back of my mind, I always wonder if she’ll change her mind once I tell her how I feel. I wonder if she’ll understand. While I’m not prepared to confess my heart’s desire with all guns blazing, little wants like these seem too precious to waste away by not shooting my shot.
She looks down at her wet clothes. “But I need to change!”
“Just grab one of my T-shirts from the cupboard. Take whatever fits.”
She looks like she's about to argue, but then I ask her again. “Please.”
I sound tired and worn even to my own ears, and I think she understands how much I need this—her—because she sighsand moves to my closet. I watch as she pulls out a black t-shirt and a pair of boxers.
“Turn around,” she commands, and I obediently roll onto my side, facing away from her, and let myself smile.
I hear the rustle of wet clothes hitting the floor, the soft sounds of her movements as she dries herself, and then the whisper of cotton sliding over skin.
The thought of her naked in my room, sliding into my clothes, sends a sweet thrill down my spine.
“You can look now,” she says when she’s done, and I roll back to face her.
She stands at the edge of the bed in my t-shirt, which hangs to mid-thigh on her shorter body, and a pair of my boxers that she's had to roll at the waist to keep up. Her hair is still damp, and she looks so perfect I can barely breathe.
“Come here,” I say softly, already sleepy, and lift the covers on the empty side of the bed. Just sex, she had said. But her taking care of me, wearing my clothes, sleeping in my bed—this can’t be just sex.
I wonder if she feels the same way.
She slides in beside me, and though we don’t touch, I feel myself relax.
She tenses.
“This doesn't change anything,” she whispers, staring up at the roof.
“Just sleep,” I murmur, turning to lie on my back too. “That's all.”
And then, I hear her breathing even out. We just lie like that, with our faces to the roof, shoulder to shoulder, but never touching.
Soon, I find myself in that half-awake, half-asleep state, and the last thought I remember having, just before I drift off, is that I could get used to falling asleep with Gela Jones in my bed every night for the rest of my life.
Chapter 16 - Gela
I wake up in the morning with a smile on my face, and my heart beats in that slow, steady manner where everything feels calm in the world. But then, my head starts spinning in confusion, and I feel a strong, warm body covering me from behind.
Where the hell am I?
I’m still groggy, and it takes a few seconds for my panicked thoughts to settle when I remember what happened last night.
I had helped Valentin to bed.
I’d spent the night.
And somehow, in the course of that night, I got all tangled up with him. My body instantly freezes under his arm, but my heart hammers like it’s chiseling away at all my walls.
There’s no space between us. He has my head tucked beneath his chin, one arm swung across my waist, and the other resting below my neck. He has one leg flung over both of mine. I can feel every ridge and muscle of his chest against my back in a way I haven’t ever before, despite having slept with him.
My palms go sweaty, and I scream at myself to move, but despite all the big declarations I made to him, how it was just sex and that sharing a bed last night meant nothing, my body recoils at the thought of moving away from him. My nervous system declares that this feels right…that this, right here, is peace.
