My lips twitch up into a smile at my own thoughts.
Still. This is bad. I shouldn’t stay here with him when I still have feelings like that and I was so insistent that there could be nothing romantic between us. There can’t.
I need to shut that shit down. Or else go back to my own place and deal with being alone.
Wait. I wanted to be alone. Now the idea gives me anxiety. I am such a mess.
* * *
Marek makes dinner for us and asks if I want to watch a movie together. I know I should stay in my room and stay far away from him, but I’m tired of lying in my bed, so I agree and we watchDeadpool 2.
As the movie begins, he hands me a bag of Sour Blasters.
I look up at him in surprise.
“I’m not sure if I should give you those,” he says with a diffident shrug. “Since you don’t want to put on weight.”
My heart experiences a little glitch in its rhythm. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I murmur. “And I’ll share them with you.”
He smiles.
I haven’t seenDeadpool 2, but I loved the first movie, and it makes me laugh which seems to make Marek happy. Unfortunately, it also makes me cry at the end when Wade meets Vanessa for a few minutes. I won’t spoil it, but it’s fucking heartbreaking and I can’t stop tears from running down my face.
This greatly disturbs Marek. As I wipe tears with a tissue, he hovers anxiously. “I cry at a lot of movies,” I tell him. “I cry at dog food commercials. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” His expression remains doubtful.
That night, I have another nightmare. I wake up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding. Once again, Marek is with me in the dark. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pulling me close. “You’re okay. You were dreaming.”
His arms around me feel so good. So safe. Against my better judgment, seeking comfort, I press in closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t stop myself.
When I’m settled, he draws back. “Okay?”
I swallow through a dry throat and nod quickly, but the truth is I’m afraid to go back to sleep.
“Come to my room,” he says calmly.
I shoot him a startled glance.
“I’m not coming on to you,” he adds patiently. “I want to stay with you, but my bed is bigger.”
I weigh this in my mind—having him with me when I have another bad dream… or being alone. My heart is still beating fast with fear. And the lure of having his warm strength next to me is hard to resist. So I capitulate. “Okay.”
He leads the way. I feel gross. My hair is damp. I’d like to have another shower but it’s two in the morning. He already said he’s not coming on to me, though, so it doesn’t matter if I’m sweaty and gross.
I climb onto the high bed and slip under the covers. The duvet is like a cloud, and the sheets and pillows smell like Marek—I remember it from Vegas, a dark, rich scent, not powerful, but subtle and warm. I close my eyes and breathe it in, and it brings back memories of that night in his hotel room, in his bed. All the things he did to me. How he made me come until I was wrecked. Boneless. Spent. How I loved exploring the shape of his sculpted muscles and his beautiful cock and feeling his response when I got to suck him off.
Oh, boy. I’m getting aroused all over again. And he hasn’t even touched me. The ache between my legs intensifies and it’s hard not to shove my hand down there. Maybe I should have stayed in my own room; I could be hittin’ the kitten right now. I roll onto my side, facing away from Marek, and bend my knees up to my chest, squeezing my eyes closed and fighting the urge.
I haven’t felt this way since I’ve been back. Which has only been a few days but feels like a very long time. Over the last year, I masturbated a lot thinking about Marek, although less more recently. And I haven’t had sex at all, other than with my hand or my vibrator. Any time I had the chance, there was nobody who interested me… like Marek.
“You’re tense,” Marek murmurs behind me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I mumble into my hand.
“C’mere.” His big hands reach for me and his body shifts closer. “Relax. I’m just hugging you. Go to sleep.”
Relax?Relax?With his heat and muscles against me and his hand on my stomach, just below my breasts? Is he crazy? Now I’m even more turned on. A soft noise almost like a moan escapes me.
