Lev’s awake when my eyes open. His arm is loose on my hip, holding me to his side, one of my legs thrown over his. We’re both naked, my skin sticking to his. He abruptly drops his cell beside him, ceasing whatever job he found himself involved in, and cups my chin to kiss me.
“What was that for?” I ask when he pulls away. He traces down my spine until I’m arching into him, my hand drifting from where it rested on his heart all night down to his waist.
He catches me, stopping before I could touch him. “Just in case,” he finally murmurs before swinging his legs from bed.
“In case of what?”
He doesn’t reply, instead heading to the bathroom, and then his closet, where he’s yanking on a pair of sweats but remains shirtless. With a final wink that confirms he hasn’t totally forgotten about my presence, he leaves and shuts the door.
Um, alright.The morning-after with Levwouldbe nothing but weird, so somehow, this makes sense.
In his absence—and hoping he plans on returning—I head to the bathroom to clean up and finger-comb the chaos my hair became.
Back in his room, I slip on his shirt I grab from the floor, reminding me a little of the morning I woke up in his bed after Alessio’s attack. Not that I really want to associate this morning withthatmorning. With a shake of my head, I return to bed, this time atop the covers.
I wonder how his family or my brother would take this. Something tells me not well. Zeno couldn’t seriously have an issue with me being with someone he obviously trusted enough to play guard, right?
Within my deliberations, the door opens again, Lev returning with a tray of food that twists my stomach; I haven’t eaten since supper yesterday. He crosses the room to rest the tray filled with bacon, eggs, toast, fruit, coffee, and water in front of me.
“Breakfast? You really went all out.”
His cheeks flush, a look I’ve never seen on him. His eyes dart for his cell resting to the side. “Yeah, uh…it’s what the internet recommended for a morning-after.”
He Googled what to do? It’s incredibly sweet—and entirely Lev.
Pinching a strip of bacon between two fingers, I bite into it, making a slight crunch. Grease in its tastiest form fills my mouth. “Yum, thank you.”
“I don’t…do this.” He ducks his head, his multicoloured hair shielding his embarrassment. “When I sleep with women, it’s casual. Never here, in the mansion, in my bed. I barely stand it, to be honest. But you…”
Quiet the noise.
Reaching over, I link my hand with his. “I get it. You don’t need to finish.” His breath whooshes out, relieved. “You don’t do the sleepover thing.”
“Exactly.” He squeezes me back and waits for me to get through the plate of bacon and fruit, turning down my every offer of sharing. “How do you feel? Sore at all?”
“A little tender. You’re kinda big.”
Instead of his blush deepening—like mine presently is—he simply winks and slides off the bed, heading for the bathroom. A few seconds later, the sound of rapid water carries through the open door.
After eating enough to be full, and when the curiosity gets too much, I follow him into the bathroom, finding him moving water around in a bathtub half-filled with a coating of bubbles.
“You really don’t need to do all this. I know your research said you did, but I would have been content to rest in bed. Like I said, I’m fine.”
He straightens, wiping wet hands on his pants, which form dark grey spots. “This is my idea, not the internet’s. I believe you’re fine, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cared for.” He twists to look me over, eyes widening as he takes in what I’m wearing, what he must not have noticed during breakfast. His lips form a single word:blyat, which I know to meanfuck.
“Figured something would be better than nothing. Is it okay?”
“It’s better than okay,” he grates. “It’s your outfit for the remainder of the day. After your bath, of course.”
He pulls the shirt overhead and tosses it to the side before taking my hand, helping me into the tub, which is a perfect blend of temperatures that sucks me in as I lower into the water. It happens so quickly, there’s no chance to feel embarrassed at being naked in front of him in a non-sexual way. Bubbles roll aside, and Lev doesn’t release me until I’m safely seated.
He lowers to his knees beside the tub and reaches for a facecloth folded up behind me, then his soap. Half-confused, half-amazed, I watch as he soaps the cloth and picks up my arm to start washing me.
“You don’t need to.” I reach for the cloth, but he evades me. “I know you don’t like—you don’t need to.”
“Need to, no. Want to…that’s something else entirely. Turn.”
Following his command, the cloth wipes my neck, shoulders, and back. He’s silent as he moves down my other arm, and, admittingly, it feels really damn good.
