Langston Blackwell—stone-cold, controlled, infuriating Langston—wants me.
I smile into the dark, small and secret, before I letmy eyes fall shut.
And slowly, with the steady sound of his breathing against my neck, I drift off to sleep.
Cold Sheets
Langston
She’s asleep.
I know because I counted every single one of her breaths until the rhythm evened out. Slow. Steady. Like the tension finally bled out of her bones.
God, it feels good—holding her like this. My arm draped around her waist, her back pressed tight against me, her hair soft against my lips.
I could stay here all night.
I probably shouldn't.
I know myself, and I know the edge I’m balancing on.
Sabrina’s nervous—I felt it in every line of her body, in the way she went stiff when she realized what she could feel against her. But I wasn’t going to push. I don’t force myself on women.
And I’m sure as hell not starting with her.
Because eventually, she’ll want me.
Eventually, she’ll crave me the way I already crave her.
Seeing her in my shirt tonight rewired something in me.
The second she walked out of that bathroom—bare legs, damp hair, drowning in my clothes—the thought hit me like a lightning strike.
Mine.
And that hasn’t changed, not one bit.
Careful not to wake her, I slip my arm from around her and slide out of bed. She stirs but doesn’t wake, and I stand there for a moment, just watching. The sight of her curled up in my bed knocks something loose in my chest.
Shaking it off, I grab my phone off the nightstand and sink into the chair by the window.
One swipe, and I’m staring at the photo she insisted we take earlier.
Our “first night married,” she’d said, grinning as she leaned close, my phone angled just right. She was shocked when I told her the only selfies I’d ever taken were with Coleman’s twins. She practically shoved the phone into my hand, demanding proof.
I didn’t want to take it. But now…
Now I can’t stop looking at it.
I save it as my phone background with a swipe of my thumb, smiling like a damn fool.
Then I scroll down to a message thread I haven’t touched in months.
John (PI):
Blackwell. You alive?
I type fast. Seeing that I haven’t needed him I'm not sure how long it will take for him to get back to me.
