Eventually we made it to the shower, which turned into another round of lazy touching and kisses under the hot water. By the time we finally ordered food, it was nearly eleven, and we were both exhausted but grinning like idiots.
We ate pizza on the couch, James curled up against my side wearing nothing but one of my t-shirts. It hung loose on his frame, and something about seeing him in my clothes made possessiveness flare in my chest.
“So,” he said around a mouthful of lo mein. “Movie was good, right?”
“The movie was fine. What came after was better.”
He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Can’t argue with that.”
“We should do it again sometime.”
James grinned at me, a dangerous glint in his eye. “You can do that to me any fucking time you want.” He leaned closer, my t-shirt riding higher. “Anytime.”
Chapter 22
James
Waking up with Kent in my bed never got old. I thought maybe after the first week I’d start to miss the extra room or the personal space. But the truth was, I couldn’t get enough of him.
Every morning he’d curl around me like a vine, his warmth seeping into my bones until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. This morning was no different. His arm was draped over my waist, his breath warm against my neck, and I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back.
I checked my phone, and it wasn’t even seven yet. Way too early for me to be awake on a Tuesday, but my internal clock hadn’t gotten the memo about sleeping in. Kent was still out cold, his grip on me loosening slightly as he shifted in his sleep.
I carefully extracted myself from his octopus hold, trying not to wake him. He made a small sound of protest, his hand reaching out for me even in sleep, but he settled back down when I pulled the blanket up over his shoulder.
In the kitchen, I started the coffee maker, the familiar sound and smell helping to wake me up properly. While it brewed, I scrolled through my phone, checking emails and social mediaout of habit. There was a new message from my mom that I’d been ignoring since the night before.
Mom: Haven’t heard from you in a while. How are things? How’s Kent settling in?
I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. What was I supposed to say? Yeah, Mom, Kent’s great. We’re fucking now. Hope that doesn’t make Thanksgiving awkward.
I set the phone down without responding.
The coffee finished brewing and I poured myself a cup, leaning against the counter as I sipped it. Across the kitchen counter I could see Kent still sprawled across the bed, one arm flung over his face. Something warm settled in my chest at the sight.
Three weeks. It had been three weeks since that first kiss, since everything between us had shifted and reformed into something I still didn’t have words for. Three weeks of learning his body, his sounds, the way his face looked when he came. Three weeks of falling asleep next to him and waking up wrapped around him.
Three weeks, and I was pretty sure I was in love with him.
The realization should have terrified me. It probably would have a month ago. But standing here in the quiet morning light, watching him sleep in my bed, it just felt inevitable. Like this was always where we were heading, even when we’d hated each other.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Kent’s voice came from the bedroom, rough with sleep.
I smiled, carrying my coffee over to the living room. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. Bed got cold.” He pushed himself up on his elbows, his hair sticking up in about seven different directions. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven.”
He groaned, flopping back down. “Why are we awake?”
“I’m awake. You’re late for work.”
“I just want to stay in bed with you though…” The words were mumbled into the pillow, but I heard them clearly enough. They made my chest ache in the best way.
I set my coffee on the table and crawled back into bed, immediately getting pulled into Kent’s arms. He nuzzled into my neck, his stubble scratching pleasantly against my skin.
“Better,” he murmured.
