There’s that low growl again. It does things to my panties. He dries off quickly and sits on the bed in nothing but a towel.
“Easy there cowboy.” I pat his still-damp chest. “I can only handle one asshole at a time.” I lean over and kiss hischeek again, enjoying the almost purring sound it draws from somewhere deep inside his chest.
He takes a drink from the cup, looks at me, and takes another drink again. “This is delicious.”
“I know.” I nod.
When he goes back for another drink, my insides warm. He settles next to me on the bed, smoothie in one hand, and his other wrapped around me, my head resting on his chest as he strokes my arm.
“Does this mean we’re dating now?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I don’t know why I said that other than the fact I feel a need to define whatever this is, or at least could be.
He doesn’t stop moving his fingers up and down my arm, but he does pause from chugging my smoothie, probably a good thing too, I don’t want him to puke over this clean bed. “Do you want to?”
“Are you asking me?”
He sighs. “Why do you have to make everything more difficult?”
“And why do you have to be a giant butt face? Can’t you just ask me out?” I flutter my eyelashes up at him. “Some girls need to be romanced.”
“No.” He shakes his head, and my heart sinks. “I’m telling you you’re my girl.”
Something flaps in my chest. “What happened to consent?”
“Do you want to be my girl?”
“I dunno. I haven’t yet decided. Maybe. Maybe not. I mean this is a new space for me. A few days ago I still wanted to sever your penis from your body with a rusty blade.”
He shivers. “And now you’re not dismembering my junk?”
“Well, at least not yet.”
He chuckles. “I’ll take it. My face hurts.”
“I have that effect on people. I make them smile so much their face hurts.”
He squeezes me.
I squeeze him back. “When was your last dose of meds?”
He stays quiet.
“Tate?” I look up at him again. “When was your last dose of meds?”
“Last night before bed. I’m trying not to take them as much, they make my head foggy.”
I smack his chest making him jump. “Idiot. So you’ve just suffered in pain all day? For what? For who? What’s wrong with your head being foggy when you’re lying in a pit of your own stench and despair anyway? May as well be pain-free while you do.”
“So dramatic.”
“And you’re still an idiot.” I get up and find his meds on the table, measure them out, and present it to him to take.
“They make me sleepy.”
“Then you’ll sleep.”
He shakes his head.
“Why not?”
