“Is there anything left you haven’t already said?”
“Ouch.” He sat silent for a minute, then said, “There are lots of things I’ve never said. Things I haven’t told the media. Things I’ve never told my mom. Things I’llnevertell my mom.” He grew quiet. “Things I’ve never said to a girl before.”
I shifted so I could meet his eyes. “What have you never said to a girl?”
“You do ask the tough questions.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
His cheek rose as he half smiled. “I have a feeling I might.” He stood and offered me his hand. “But not tonight. Come on.”
I followed him up the narrow stairs and then up to the next floor and into his bedroom. The foreplay had taken a steep nosedive since earlier that evening. He stood in the doorway and asked, “Do you need anything?”
I answered him with a look of confusion. Was I supposed to ask him for the condoms this time?
But he clarified. “Towels? Extra pillows? Toothpaste? More food?”
Realization dawned. “Are you sending me to bed?” Dread curdled my stomach. Had I done something to turn him off? Had I killed his interest in me by giving it all away too fast? Or was he more repulsed by my health issues than he’d let on?
He took a step forward and rubbed my arm. “I know you need to be up early, and I kept you up way too late last night. If I stay in here with you, I’ll never let you get any sleep. I was able to resist you one night, but I can’t get my mind off earlier today. With you—” He heaved in a shuddering breath that echoed my own palpitating desire. “I’d never be able to keep my hands off you. Besides, I don’t think I can fall asleep this early.”
“But I don’t have to go to sleep right away.” I took his hand. “I want you to stay.”
He hesitated. “Zion asked me to make sure you get your rest. He said you’re wearing yourself out.” He looked into my eyes, as serious as a brain surgeon. “I want you to know I can take care of you, too.”
This was maddening. “I don’t need taking care of.” My budding arousal had been cut short from irritation, and I did need to eat something before bed. “Fine. Would you mind getting me a juice box?” My stomach rumbled. “And the peanut butter crackers.” I was decimating the reserves I’d brought, but that was better than crashing in the middle of the night. I’d deal with the ramifications in the morning.
After Micah went downstairs and brought me my late night snack, I climbed in his oh-my-God amazingly comfortable bed, phone in hand, and texted Zion.
Thanks a whole lot, Z. You’ve scared Micah into thinking I’m made of glass.
He wasted no time replying,Good.
He’s sleeping on the sofa.
LOL. You’re kidding.
I wished I was kidding. Micah’s king-size bed could have accommodated both of us with room to spare. I never could have predicted I’d end up sleeping in Micah’s bed. But I never would have believed I’d end up there all alone. I recalled Eden’s admonition about how weird Micah would be. She couldn’t have foreseen this.
Honestly, I needed the sleep. I’d been on the go all day with very little sleep from the night before. And then uncut extended bonus sex earlier in the evening. Then cooking. And I drank wine. I slid under the covers and laid my head down, suddenly annoyed by a noticeable lump pressing into my head. I reached under the pillow and encountered a bulky mass. I realized what it was before I’d pulled it out: Clark the deformed gorilla. Micah still kept it after all this time. It was truly the ugliest thing I’d ever seen. But I hugged it tight to my body and drifted off, snug and secure.
Chapter 19
When I eventually opened my eyes again, it took me a few moments to get my bearings. My head hurt, and the soft light breaking through the curtains didn’t help. I found my finger stick and measured my blood glucose. I needed to eat.
I snuck downstairs and passed Micah draped on the sofa without a shirt on, bathed in the morning light. I wanted to memorize that image, but if I lost consciousness on his floor, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t remember anything.
His kitchen was a barren nightmare. In the fridge, a lone juice box remained beside a couple of slices of leftover pizza. I considered the pizza but went for a glass of milk instead. I rummaged through his pantry until I found a box of Cheerios, a jar of peanut butter, and crackers. I shook my head in disappointment. I went in search of a knife. Another day of peanut butter crackers—at least it would tide me over until we could go out for real food.
Finally, my head cleared, and I felt human again. I meant to sneak upstairs and get another hour of sleep, but Micah’s sleeping form looked like something that should be hanging in the Louvre. I carefully slid my camera out of my bag and sat crisscross on the floor, trying to find the perfect angle.
The shutter whirred open and closed. Micah stirred. I scooted back to get the length of him, with the crimson throw sliding off him and exposing his toes. His arms and chest needed to be chiseled out of marble. Would nobody preserve this work of art but me?
I shot off another picture, and his eyes opened. I couldn’t stop shooting because every movement of his face was more beautiful than the last.
“Hey.” He yawned. “Were you taking pictures?”
“I couldn’t resist. You’re so gorgeous when you sleep.”
