“Yes.”
“Well, apart fromthattime.”
“Yes.”
“Apart fromthatother time!”
She pauses for a second, then says, “No.”
“Alright then, no more talking about it,” I say, shutting the conversation down before I dig myself a deeper hole. I walk over to the closet, grab a pillow and some blankets, and drop them on the chair. When I crawl back into bed, I glance over and watch her meticulously arranging the makeshift bedding. But then, I notice her clothes—pencil skirt, blouse, and heels. There’s no way she’s going to be comfortable like that.
“Oh, hell,” I mutter under my breath, already knowing what I need to do.
Lauren hears me this time, her eyes locking onto mine. “What’s going on?”
“You need pajamas,” I say, throwing the sheets off myself and heading for the closet again, this time to grab one of my T-shirts for her. As I hold it in my hand, my mind gets the better of me—Lauren in my T-shirt, her messy morning hair, the soft glow of sunlight. Before I can stop it, my imagination runs wild, and then, of course, my body reacts.
“No, no, no …” I grunt to myself, scrambling to cover up, trying to will my thoughts away before they cause any more problems. Lauren has no idea what kind of internal chaos she’s stirring.
“If you don’t have anything, don’t worry, I’m used to sleeping in what I have on,” Lauren calls from the other room.
What the hell does that mean?My mind races, overthinking it, while I try to keep my cool. “Calm your anxiety, Lauren,” I shout back, though truthfully, I’m the nervous one.
Suddenly, the familiar tightness in my chest creeps up, and my hand instinctively presses against my heart as if squeezing it will somehow ease the pain. I start taking deep breaths, forcing myself to think of something else, anything to distract from the discomfort building inside.
Out of nowhere, I feel her hands on my arms—gentle but firm.
“No, don’t come,” I manage to say, but the words come out weak, more like a plea than a command.
“Silas, look at me,” she says softly, her voice grounding me. I can’t help but meet her gaze. Her hands glide down from my shoulders to my wrists, her touch calming the storm inside me. “I’m here.”
And that’sexactlythe problem.She’s here, and it’s overwhelming in a way I can’t explain.
“I need you to look at me and relax with me,” Lauren says softly, her hands continuing their gentle caresses. She cups my face, her thumbs stroking my cheeks, and it’s like everything else fades away. I lock eyes with her, completely lost in those calm, smiling eyes. Her mouth is slightly open, her presence grounding me in a way that nothing else can. “Can you walk?” she asks, her voice steady.
I nod, dumbstruck by her beauty. How does she not realize how incredible she is? The Alchemist, transforming everything just by being here.
“Let’s go,” she says, linking her arm with mine and guiding me to the bed. My body feels useless, but with her help, I manage to lie down, and she covers me with the blankets, moving gently. By the time she’s done, I know she saw my erection, but she’s tactful enough to pretend she didn’t notice.
“What were you thinking about?” she asks, sitting beside me, her voice curious but calm.
“Nothing, just you in my clothes,” I say seriously, not even trying to hide it.
“Oh ... well, I won’t use them then,” she says with a small smile, trying to brush it off.
I hiss in frustration. “Don’t be stubborn. Go change. You’ve done enough for me.”
Lauren stays silent for a moment, her expression contemplative. “Don’t you want me to call anyone from your family?” she asks, picking up the clothes I’d left lying around.
“No.” My heart starts racing again at the thought. “No one can know about this. My father will just say I’m not ready for the stress, and my brothers will make fun of me.”
She walks toward me again, and I can’t help but take in every detail, from the way she moves to how she looks from head to toe. There's something about her that pulls at me, more than just her beauty—it’s her calmness, her steadiness, the way she handles everything with grace.
“Sleep in my bed, please,” I whisper, barely able to meet her eyes. “I promise not to do anything, just …”Is she going to make me say it?“I need you close.”
Lauren hesitates, her eyes searching mine, full of doubt. That’s a good sign—at least she’s thinking about it. “You’re taking advantage of your condition,” she says, her tone teasing but cautious.
“Yes,” I admit with a small smile. “Don’t you feel sorry for me?”
