He looked at me, and then he looked away. He sighed. Something was clearly troubling him. “Is it okay if I hang in here with you for a few minutes?” he finally asked, his voice quiet with a hint of embarrassment.
“Of course, Jesse,” I said, feeling slightly more awake. I pulled back the blanket and indicated for him to get comfortable.
He kicked off his shoes and stuck his feet under the blanket, still in socks, leaning on my headboard as I watched him. He sighed again as I leaned over and turned off the light.
“Come here,” I directed, and he sunk down a little further, staring up at the ceiling. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and he was warm next to me as I scooted closer and placed my head in the nook between his shoulder and his chest. I knew it was far too intimate for friends, but he seemed deeply distressed, and I wanted to be there for him like he’d been there for me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him. My heart was suddenly racing as his scent overwhelmed my senses.
“What’s going on?” I asked quietly, wanting to know but afraid to hit a nerve.
He didn’t respond, and instead, I felt him take a deep breath next to me.
Where the hell had he gone? Who the hell was Carly, and why had he spent almost the entire day with her? Why was he so disturbed now that he was back?
“Talk to me,” I pleaded in a whisper.
He sighed for the third time in as many minutes. “It’s complicated.”
That was certainly a non-answer. “I’ve got time.”
“It’s late, V. You need to go to sleep.”
“I just want to be here for you like you’ve been here for me.”
I felt his fingers tighten around me as they dug into the soft flesh at my shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured, and I could hear the emotion he was choking back. I wanted to turn the light on and look up at him, to see his eyes and to communicate with my own that everything was going to be okay even though I didn’t know what was wrong. But I didn’t dare move my cheek from its spot on his body.
We were both quiet for awhile, and I must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, my alarm clock on my cell phone started its raging chirp at 5:30. I reached to turn it off and was met with a hard wall of man. I gasped in surprise, taking a moment to place myself and realizing that Jesse had spent the night in bed with me.
He was still in his jeans and t-shirt, and he was still lying in the exact position that he’d been in when I’d fallen asleep wrapped around him the night before.
I was a heavy sleeper who tended to stay in one position for the entire night, and I realized that I’d spent the night on Jesse. Literally sleeping on him. And he was still sleeping soundly, breathing deeply and evenly, but not snoring. Bonus points for the non-snoring Jesse Drake.
I turned on the light on my nightstand.
I shook him, and he jerked awake with a gasp. His eyes looked around wildly until he focused in on me, and then I saw just the corners of his lips curl up ever so faintly.
“Good morning,” he said sheepishly.
“Morning,” I said, very aware of my raunchy morning breath and wishing I hadn’t turned the light on since I had to look like a rabid dog after I hadn’t washed off my make-up the night before.
I grinned. I couldn’t help it. Something about waking up next to Jesse Drake just made me ecstatically happy, even if it hadn’t been because of a night of passion together. I almost felt like what we’d shared was more intimate than having spent the night naked together, although I certainly wouldn’t have been complaining if we had woken up without clothes on.
I reminded myself that I was still married.
Dammit.
“Sorry,” he muttered, his arm still wrapped around me.
“For what?” I asked.
“Crashing your bed,” he said.
“If we’re being technical, it’s your bed.”
“I didn’t mean to stay in here all night,” he said, sitting up and pulling his arm out from under me. He rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. He had major bed head, but all the messy hair served to do was somehow make him even hotter. He ran a hand through the hair I’d been ogling.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and scrubbed his hand down his jaw, that beautiful jaw covered in a day’s worth of stubble. I didn’t want him to shave it. I loved how it looked on him, a little scruffy and a lot masculine.
“I didn’t mind,” I said, and I realized I was flirting. I hadn’t meant to be flirtatious, but it just sort of slipped out.
He glanced over his shoulder at me, and it looked like the haunting that plagued his eyes the night before was mostly gone.