“Are you sure you don’t want to keep feeling me up?” he asks.
“Ugh, you are the worst. Hurry up.”
“I’ll be out in five.”
“Sure, you will,” I call out as I leave the bathroom. Once I’m in his room, I pull back the blanket and sheet on his bed and get it all ready for him. I grab the pink blanket and pillow and drop them off onto the floor for a makeshift bed for me. Shockingly, I’ve only just finished when the bathroom door opens. I whirl around. “Did you even shower?”
“I told you I’d be fast.”
I shake my head and don’t respond partly because he has that stinkin’ towel wrapped around his middle again. “All right. Hurry up and get dressed; time’s wasting.”
“You’re sure impatient when you’re tired,” he says with a smirk. I give him a look I’ve perfected over the years. “Okay, I’ll get moving.” He disappears into his closet for a moment and then comes back out dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. “Better?”
I take in all of him—his dark, mostly shaved head, the bronzed skin, fit and toned athlete’s body, and those intense dark eyes, trained on me. “Perfect,” I can’t help but say, but I don’t regret it. His eyes meet mine. “Now,” I say before he can say something. “My sole job here is to enforce that you get sleep. You have a game tonight.”
“I am aware,” he says in a low voice.
“Then why in the world are you doing weight-lifting on a game day? You know that’s a stupid idea.”
His eyes narrow. “It helps me relax.”
I arch a brow. “Weightlifting helps you relax?”
“It helps tire me out...when you’re not around,” he says with a small grin.
I gasp in mock outrage. “Are you telling me I tire you out?”
“Never.”
“Hmmm. Well, I don’t want the entire soccer team to hate me when they don’t have their Striker in good form for tonight’s game.”
“I’ll be fine,” he grumbles.
“Yes, you will be. That's what I’m here to do—make sure you sleep.”
He gives me a steady, intense look. “I’ll sleep if you sleep with me.” His words give me a visible reaction. He steps up to me and drops his hands on my hips. “Just you being nearby will help me be able to relax and hopefully sleep.”
“Okay then. That’s why I’m here. I’ll lay on the floor next to –”
He cuts me off. “I’m not sleeping on the bed while you sleep on the floor.”
“Well, you’re not sleeping on the floor; you have a game later,” I remind him.
“Fine. We’ll compromise. We’ll both sleep on the bed.”
I go still. “Slater.”
“Just to sleep, Tess. I promise.”
I eye the bed and then eye him. He really does need sleep, and I’m about to fall asleep just standing here. I finally nod. “Just to sleep.”
He nods, looking relieved. I sit on the edge of the bed, and he walks over and closes the bathroom door and the curtains. It’s soon mostly dark in the room. I can barely stifle a yawn. “I’ve got to warn you. There’s only one other male I’ve ever shared a bed with.”
It’s quiet a beat. “Is he still alive?”
“Is he still—what kind of a question is that? Of course, he’s still alive.”
“If you want him to stay that way, don’t tell me his name.”
