The sheets are soft against the newly exposed skin of my neck, reminding me of my haircut. The lightness pulls a smile into place as giddiness zips up my spine. I grip the covers over my mouth to keep my joy from waking him.
Peeking over at him once more, I untangle my legs from his and slip out of bed backward. I go into the bathroom and start to close the door until it squeaks. I freeze, but then check to see if Keats reacts before deciding it’s safer to leave it open.
I take a long look in the mirror, oscillating my head just to feel the brush of my hair tickle my neck. Turning around, I try to get a glimpse of the back, but I can’t really see it. I know it’s uneven, considering how it was cut, but for some odd reason, I’m not bothered by it. This hair feels more me than any other style I’ve had in the past six years.
“Sosie?” The urgency in his voice has me running to the doorway.
“What?”
Keats fell back on the bed in relief, his hand over his heart like it was about to leave him. When he drapes his arm across his forehead, he closes his eyes and says, “I thought you had left.” The hint of panic and the tinge of frustration are heard through his words, but it’s his body that gives him away. “Last time, you were gone before I woke up.”
My heart sinks at how that must have made him feel. “I was only using the bathroom.” I climb back in bed with him and cuddle up to his side. After placing a kiss on his chest, I draw figure eights over his incredible abs. They’re as hard as steel, like they don’t know how to relax and take a day off.
When his arm comes around me, he leans over to kiss my head. “You never returned.”
“I did. I just took a few detours to get here.” I caress his face, running the tips of my fingers over the dusting of scruff that appeared overnight. “I’m here now, Poet.”
He lifts me, leaving me straddling him with my legs. My need to kiss him is so strong that I don’t restrain myself. My lips crash against his as I slide my hands down to the mass of muscles in his shoulders. I shift my hips, needing the pressure. But whena moan escapes, his hands wrap around my ribs, and I’m held, unable to move above him. “I’m trying to be so good, Spark, but you’re going to be the death of me.”
Grinning like I just won a best in show contest, I push against his hands until he lowers them to my hips and kiss him. With another kiss placed on the tip of his nose, I sit back up. “There’s no fun in being good, Poet. Trust me on that, so we might as well be bad and make it worth the while.”
I’m flipped onto my back, and my hair covers my eyes when I land. Keats takes up most of the bed, it seems like, and all my heart, but his erection between my legs is about to make me beg for more.
He pulls back and is on his feet before I can talk him into having sex. Talking isn’t the preferred method, but damn, I whine, “It feels too good to stop.” Laughter trails him as he goes into the bathroom. I prop up on my elbows, glaring at the darkened doorway I’m left with to discuss this important issue. “It’s not funny, Keats. Kisses and being left in this giant bed all alone while turned on are all I get?”
The laughter gets louder when he comes closer. He pulls his toothbrush from his mouth and says, “You’re going to survive this. I promise.”
“So you say.” When he disappears again, I flop my arms out wide on the mattress.
I hear the water running, then silence before he reappears and crawls over me. He teases me by hovering over me, our faces mere inches away from one another. “I do say. And it’s all you getfor now. ‘For now’ being the operative part of that sentence.” He taps my nose before jumping off the bed again. “It’s game on later.”
I sit up quickly, wanting to see this man in motion as he strides into the walk-in closet. How is it possible to be soattracted to another human that the thought of him leaving to even go into another room causes me to miss him? “Promise?”
“That’s a promise I’ll keep. If not for you, for me.” He chuckles, stretching a blue tee over his head. “It’s Christmas. We should go do something, like eat ramen.”
Resting my weight back on the palms of my hands, I say, “I haven’t been back since I went with you.”
“Seems like a good time to return then.”
“Um.” I start, not sure how to say this. I don’t want to upset him, but I must stick to my plan before it goes sideways on me again. “I, uh, I have some things I need to do today. Remember, I mentioned moving out?”
He comes to sit on the bed next to me. No anger or conflict is resting in his expression when he says, “Of course. How can I help you?”
“You can’t. I mean . . .” I waffle my head back and forth but settle it again when my eyes are fixed on him. “You can, but not by doing anything other than wishing me luck.”
“Do you need luck?” His tone turns serious, and his eyebrows knit together.
“No.” I smile to reassure him, but I can’t do the same for myself. Even knowing my parents have flown out to wherever they’re spending the next week and won’t be there, I’m nervous, even scared, if I’m being honest with myself. They’ll be alerted before I have a chance to catch a cab on the street. I need to plan everything in advance and not waste a minute thinking about what’s next. “I’ll go, collect my stuff, and then I’ll be gone. It’s that simple.”
“Is it that simple, though? I’m thinking your parents won’t take this lightly, so I don’t think you should go alone.”
I rest my hand on his and hold my chin up. “Don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”
“You sure?” He drops his gaze to the bed between us and says, “That sounds an awful lot like famous last words.”
Famous last words.
I’ve been haunted by those words the entire ride back to the house. I should be using it to my advantage. I need my armor in place before I arrive and be ready for anything. My parents may be gone, but Gregory isn’t, and I didn’t exactly leave him on good terms.
