When we got back home, Jesse headed to his bedroom and shut the door for his phone calls while I headed to the bathroom to organize the chaos. I wondered what he was doing, who he was calling, but I reminded myself that it wasn’t my business. And I certainly didn’t even allow myself to think that he was calling up all his women after that ridiculously hot kiss we just shared. Based on the few days we’d spent together, I was starting to wonder about his reputation as a playboy. If he was truly the ladies’ man that he made himself out to be – or that I had assumed he was – he’d either have tried to sleep with me or he’d have been out with other women. While I still didn’t know what happened on Sunday, I got the feeling from his reaction when he’d arrived home that it wasn’t a sex fest. Something serious happened, but he wasn’t talking. All I could hope for was that he would tell me when he was ready to.
I was completely lost in thought about all things Jesse while I cleaned up the mess I had made in the bathroom. I was sitting on the floor, lining lotions, body washes, and perfumes evenly under the sink (labels facing outward… someone was clearly having an effect on me) when I heard his voice behind me. “V?” I nearly jumped out of my skin, hitting my head on the countertop as I stood.
I turned around. He looked so serious, and that haunted look was back.
Who the hell kept doing this to him? Was it Carly?
“You scared me,” I said, rubbing my head.
“Sorry.” This was one of those times when he usually laughed it off or teased me, but I didn’t even see a hint of a smile on his face at all. “I need to run out for awhile. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked, afraid what his answer might be as I gripped a bottle of perfume in my hand.
He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
I set the perfume on the counter and walked over to him, pulling him into my arms for just a moment. “Do you need me to do anything?”
He shook his head. “Thanks. I have to go.” He pressed his lips quickly to mine, almost as if to remind me that he was still interested in me, and then he turned and left.
Curiosity gripped me, but there was nothing I could do. I reminded myself once again that he’d talk when he was ready. After the kiss we had shared, I knew that it wasn’t just my imagination. I knew that he cared about me, and I was pretty sure that he wanted me like I wanted him.
In a few short months, I’d be free to fully pursue him. I hated denying myself what I really wanted – what I really needed – but I refused to take the risk of karma biting me in the ass by starting a relationship while I was still married to someone else.
I finished up in the bathroom and glanced at the clock. It was already almost 10:00, which was my bedtime, and I wondered where he had gone off to so late. Clearly it was some sort of emergency gauging from his reaction.
I decided to wait up on the couch for a bit for him. He might need someone to talk to, or even just someone to give him a hug and be there for him after he went off to deal with God knows what, and I wanted to be that person for him.
And, for the fourth night in a row, I fell asleep on Jesse’s couch. The damn thing was like some sort of magical sleep aid. Screw the Advil PM; all I needed was Jesse’s magical sectional couch.
I felt lips on my forehead again, and this time I knew I wasn’t dreaming. I was in his arms, somewhere between asleep and awake. He was carrying me to my bed, and he threw back the blankets and sheets and helped me snuggle in under the covers. And then I felt his warmth next to me, his chest pressed against my back and his arm around my waist as he fell into bed beside me. I fell back into a deep sleep, and what felt like five minutes later, my cell phone wake-up call rang shrilly at 5:30. Just like the previous morning, I turned over and ran into a hard wall of man, and while most mornings I woke up easily when my alarm went off, something about having Jesse Drake in the bed with me persuaded me to hit the snooze button.
He was still in a deep slumber, and I threw my arm around his waist and burrowed into his side, realizing that he’d stripped off his shirt but not his jeans. He slept in jeans for two nights in a row. I didn’t know where he went the night before, and frankly, I didn’t care. All I knew was that when he came back home, he carried me to bed and then got in beside me. Clearly I was filling some void for him just as he was for me.
My alarm went off nine minutes later. I wished that it wasn’t February when it was still dark in the mornings, because I would’ve had a perfect, unobstructed view of his tattoo from where I was lying beside him.