"Hi," she said quietly. She stepped back to let him in, then shut and locked the door behind him. "Thanks for coming down. I just wanted some company. Your company."
"Wouldn't want to be anywhere else," Heath replied honestly. She took his hand and led him over to her bed. It wasn't in any sort of suggestive manner; it was easygoing, as though it was the most logical place they could lounge at almost eleven o'clock at night. She leapt lightly onto the bed and he flopped down beside her. He let out a contented sigh; it was the first time all day he'd had any time to relax. He propped himself up slightly to shove a pillow under the small of his back and leaned back so his shoulder blades were against the headboard and stretched his legs out in front of him. Drew sat next to him with her back flush against the headboard and her knees pulled in to her chest.
"Are you pretty tired?" she asked, flipping idly through the TV channels at warp speed like she always did. He instantly picked up that she did not want to discuss the events of the day. He'd let her have her way for now, but sooner or later, he needed to talk to her about it.
"A little," Heath said. "Not too worried about it, though. I've got plenty of time to sleep. We don't have to be back to the arena until three tomorrow afternoon."
"That's good," Drew replied.
He glanced over at her. "You sure you want to come tomorrow?" He asked. "You don't have to, you know."
She looked at him. "Yes, of course I'll be there," she said, her slightly exasperated tone making him smile. "How could I not? I wouldn't miss it."
"Okay, okay," he said, lifting his hands to pay the air. "Calm down. Didn't mean to wake the beast."
She snorted and shoved at his shoulder lightly. He was glad to see her mood seemed to improve. She found some movie he hadn't seen before and set the remote down. It was some sort of crappy horror movie with a lot of gore, tits and ass, as well as a few choice sex scenes. He was starting to get interested in the plot when it appeared that all of the "protagonists" in the film would be killed off when Drew startled him by suddenly pushing herself forward and flopping on her knees beside him. She placed her palms by her knees and leaned toward him. He looked at her in mild alarm.
"You okay?" he asked. He tilted his head at her curiously. "What is it?"
She opened her mouth to answer but nothing came out. She looked like she was reaching for something to tell him.
"Drew," he said, smirking at her. "What?"
She bit her lip and her mouth opened to speak again, and again nothing came out. She just looked at him.
Finally she slowly reached a hand out toward him, and took hold of the zipper on his navy blue sweatshirt. His eyebrows shot up and he looked down, watching as her hand slowly pulled the zipper down along its track, until she reached the bottom. With a little tug and flick of her wrist, the zipper opened and the jacket fell around either side of his waist.
He looked up at her again and she was staring. His brow creased slightly.
"Drew," he said quietly. "What are you doin'?" Based on her actions from their first night, and the trauma she'd experienced earlier, he didn't want her feeling like she needed to prove anything to him again.
In reply she slowly reached out again, this time with both hands and leaned across his chest to pull one side of his jacket down his arm and then the other. He caught her hand and tugged her closer.
"What are you doing?" he asked again softly. "You don't –"
"Shush," she said finally.
He blinked. "Shush?"
She suddenly leaned in, her face centimeters from his, her warm breath brushing his lips.
"I said, shh," she whispered. "Okay?"
He scanned her face, suddenly finding it hard to look away from her lips, and slowly nodded.
She leaned back and began pulling his arms out of the sleeves of his sweatshirt. When his arms were free, she pulled the sweatshirt from underneath him and tossed it onto the floor before she turned to look at him again.
He had no idea what she was doing or where she was going with this but he was intrigued and definitely getting aroused. He jumped slightly when her hands next moved to the bottom hem of his white, snug ribbed tank top and pulled it upward. He let her pull it up over his abdomen and helped her to pull it over his head. Her eyes raked down him for a long time while she sat motionless. He had just started to grow slightly uncomfortable under her scrutiny when she whispered, "You're beautiful."
He wasn't sure how to respond to it but whatever lame words he'd pulled forth from the recesses of his brain died in his mouth when her hands reached out slowly again and rested lightly on his pecs. His skin jumped at her touch as warmth flooded his body and blood surged to the sensitive area at the apex of his groin. Her small, soft hands pressed into his chest and then ran down the length of his abdomen, the tips of her fingers digging in ever so slightly. Her fingers traced the ridges of his heavily muscled stomach, following every curve of muscle, every outlined rib. Her fingers then moved higher to his chest and arms and she traced his tattoos. Her fingers skimmed his skin lightly and it was so relaxing he could have closed his eyes and gone to sleep.