I turn the idea inside out and upside down until I’ve had enough. Until I can’t debate it anymore. Until Iwon’tdebate it anymore.
Leaving the blanket across the arm of the couch, I use my phone light to guide my way up the stairs, my socked feet soft against every step. I stop outside Wes’s bedroom door, unsure if I should knock or text him to see if he’s still awake. Taking a deep breath, I turn the knob, surprised when it opens easily. I always sleep with my door locked.
I step over the threshold and ease the door shut before directing my attention to the man sprawled on his stomach across the bed. Despite the temperature, he’s got the comforter pushed down to his waist, a thin, white t-shirt the only protection for his skin against the cold. His head is turnedtoward me on the pillow, but his eyes are shut, his breathing even. I shiver again and step closer.
“Wes,” I whisper, before I can rethink this inane plan. I reach out and lightly touch his shoulder.
His eyes snap open, and he gives a couple unfocused blinks. When he registers my face, his own lights up, and he smiles lazily.
“Hey, Ives. Change your mind?”
I nod, having difficulty with the words right now. He doesn’t ask questions or give me a hard time for being indecisive. He simply nods and rolls over to the side of the bed closest to the wall, leaving me the spot he just occupied.
I slip under the blanket, sighing at the warmth of the mattress, radiating his body heat. I adjust the pillow, and then sink down below the comforter, tugging it up to my chin. My teeth continue to chatter with a chill I can’t shake.
“Still cold?” he murmurs. I glance over to find him on his side, facing me in the bed.
“A little,” I whisper.
“Would you want to cuddle? Just to warm up? I’m a furnace, remember?”
Before I can fully process his question, I’m scooting across the bed into his open arm and snuggling up against his side. Tentatively, I rest my head on his strong shoulder, conscious of the way our bodies are touching, the front of mine pressed to the side of his from my chest down to my socked feet. I’m not sure what to do with my right arm, so I lay it cautiously over his stomach, feeling his abdomen contract at my touch.
My head rises with his chest as he inhales, then lowers as he releases a slow, satisfied sigh. I feel his chin rest on the top of my head and his hand flex once against my arm, but that’s it. He doesn’t suggest anything further, and before I know it, his breathing evens out, signaling that he’s fallen back asleep. Andthe crazy thing is, breathing in his scent, relishing in the heat of his body, I feel…safe.Relaxed. Content.
As much as I try to fight the exhaustion, I can’t. He’s too comfortable, too warm. I don’t remember when exactly I fall asleep, but it’s deep and restful and perfect.
SEVENTEEN
My eyes flyopen in a panic.
The night before rushes back as I take stock of the situation. Wes’s room. Wes’s bed. Wes’s big body next to mine. And I’m freakingsweating.
There’s no question as to why I’m so overheated.We must have shifted in the night because now I find myself lying on my back, and the length of Wes’s body is turned fully toward me. Cheek resting against the top of my head, he’s holding me like a teddy bear, strong arms wrapped around my body as he tucks me close to his chest. I would laugh if I wasn’t so freaked out.
“Wes,” I whisper, careful not to blow my morning breath in his face. I try and fail to wiggle free of the heavy arm banded across my front.
He stirs only slightly at my movement, his grip on me tightening. “Mhm.”
Somehow, I manage to reach my hand up to shake his arm. “Wes, wake up.” Another sigh. I shake it harder. “Wes, wake up. I feel like I’m suffocating. God, you weigh a ton.”
I can’t tell if his eyes open, but he sighs again, and his hold on me finally loosens. “Oops,” he mumbles. “Sorry about that.”
The moment his arms drop away, I sit up, pulling at the collar of my sweatshirt to try to get some airflow. I glance back at him to find him smiling sheepishly as he rolls onto his back and kicks off the blanket. His eyes are still hooded from sleep, and his hair is sticking up every which way, but that’s not what catches my attention. No. What catches my attention is the way his t-shirt is pushed up, revealing a perfect slab of taut abdominal muscles, with a deep V pointing straight down to theveryprominent bulge in his sweatpants. My face ignites, and I quickly face forward, my pulse jumping in my throat.
“Bathroom,” I mutter, practically lunging out of the bed. And of course, in about the most graceless way possible, my foot tangles in the sheet, twisting me up and making me stumble like an absolute freak. I manage to right myself before face-planting on his carpet, and my cheeks grow even hotter with embarrassment, my words coming out near incomprehensible. “I’llberightback.”
I think I hear his deep chuckle as I close the bathroom door, but it’s difficult to tell past the blood rushing in my ears. Standing at the sink, I splash cold water over my face and tell my reflection to get a grip. That’s what happens to guys in the morning. Something about blood flow or testosterone or…something. I don’t know. I’ve never spent the night with a guy before—for good reason—so how would I know?
It doesn’t mean…it doesn’t mean it wasmewho caused that to happen. Because I don’t want that. I don’t want that at all…
Of course you don’t!
Deep breaths. I take deep breaths. And once my face returns back to its natural color, I do my business and finger-comb my hair. Then, telling myself to relax, I step back out into the bedroom.
Wes is no longer sprawled across the bed, thank god. He’s at the foot of the mattress, smoothing out the comforter andpulling down the sheet. He smiles when he sees me, his eyes more awake than before, already bright with the possibilities of the day. “Hey, you. Looks like the power’s back on. How did you sleep? Weren’t too cold, I hope.”
“Not at all,” I tell him, happy that my voice sounds more normal. “You’re, like, abnormally hot.”
