I let the kiss linger for a minute or two. I grab the pillow and get up. He looks up at me in confusion until I hold my hand out to him from beneath the blanket and say, “Let’s go to bed, Jackson.”
Even in the darkness, I can see the relief shining in his eyes. He follows me inside, bringing in the pillow since my other hand is holding on to his with a vise-like grip.
He puts in his code as soon as the door closes. “Why am I not surprised you got your own code?” I smile at him teasingly.
“I almost had them put the camera feed on my television, but, apparently, there are laws against that.” He smiles back at me sheepishly while throwing the pillow onto the couch.
I walk upstairs with him, but he stops. “What about Lilah?” he asks me.
“It’s okay, Jackson. Brenda got her used to her own bed, so mine is all free.” I get on my tippy toes to kiss under his chin.
“That bed will never be empty.”
“Okay then. Now can we please, please go to bed? I’m so tired,” I say, trying to hide the yawn that sounds exactly like Lilah’s earlier.
“Go get into bed. I’m going to make sure Lilah is okay and check the doors and windows.”
I look at him. “You have this place more wired than Radio Shack. She’s fine.”
“Let me see for myself.” He walks over to her room, slipping inside, and covering her with her pink blanket she kicked off.
“She is only going to kick it off again,” I tell him while he starts to check the windows.
I follow him out of the room once he does all of his security checks.
“What side of the bed do you sleep on?” he asks me before choosing his side.
I shrug. “I don’t really have a side. We would just sleep in the middle.”
“Okay. I would like to sleep closest to the door, just in case someone comes in or we have to bolt. I’ll be able to get Lilah before you even get up,” he says, throwing off the covers.
“Do you want to shower first?” I ask him just in case he’s shy.
“You saying I smell, angel?” he says while he takes off his shirt. I cannot stop my eyes from their perusal of his chest and tight abs.
When we were on the couch, I never really got the chance to actually look at him. He is all hard muscle and smooth skin. His abs are flawless with those six definitions of perfection.
“You like what you see, angel?” he asks with a lightness I haven’t heard from him in so long.
It snaps me back into the moment, and I realize I’m standing here gawking at him. I try to play it off, throwing the covers off my side of the bed. “No, I was just looking is all.”
“Oh, you don’t have to stop looking, but I have to warn you that if you do, my chest and abs won’t be the only muscles hardening up for you,” he says, pointing to the big bulge in his pants. “Mr. Big will definitely pop up to say hello.”
“You named your penis Mr. Big?” I say while I grab a chopstick from my side table to scratch inside the cast on my arm. “I mean, what if you aren’t Mr. Big? How do you know you’re not more like Mr. Average?” I tease him, knowing how men get about their penis size.
“I can totally show it to you right here right now for research purposes, angel. Trust me, there’s nothing average about Mr. Big,” he says as he unbuckles his pants.
I turn my head, shielding my eyes. “Okay, okay! I believe you. We can save show and tell for another day, please.” I crawl into bed on my knees.
“Angel, do you want me to keep my jeans on?” he asks, making sure I’m comfortable with the speed this is going.
“You would never take advantage of a one-handed woman, so you can take the jeans off. Mr. Big has to stay under wraps, though.” I point the chopstick at his crotch.
“What the fuck are you doing with a chopstick in here?” he asks me.
“This cast is itchy! I can’t scratch it, so Brenda brought me this. You try having an itch you can’t scratch!” I tell him tartly.
He shuts off the lights before removing his pants. “Oh, trust me, I know the feeling of having an itch and not being able to scratch it,” he says while he climbs into bed.
“I have to sleep on my back because of my arm,” I whisper to him.
He pulls me to him, putting one hand under the pillows and throwing his other hand over my stomach. His legs intertwine with mine. “I don’t care how you sleep as long as I can hold you,” he says while he tries to get closer to me, but my arm blocks him.
I put my hand on his on my stomach, turning my face to look at him. “I missed you, and I’m so sorry for not listening to you at first and for pushing you away,” I tell him. It’s the truth. In these last two days, he was the only one I wanted here.