Page 38 of Falling for You

He grunts and tightens his hold on my waist, nestling his face into my neck.

“Rex,” I say louder.

“Hmm?”

“Rex. We fell asleep.”

His head bumps into my chin when he moves swiftly. We both groan in pain, him rubbing the top of his head and me clutching my chin. “Shit. Sorry. Sorry. Ouch, fuck. Shit are you okay?”

Wincing, my nose stings and my eyes water.

“Chloe? Are you okay? Dammit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I don’t wake up well, obviously.”

“It’s okay, honestly. I’m not hurt.”

He lifts my chin, inspects the spot where we connected, his thumb brushing lightly over the area that stings like a son of a bitch already. “It’s not bleeding,” he murmurs.

“Well I would hope not!” I laugh, sitting back a little bit.

His hand drops from my chin but lifts to his head, scratching the top then ruffling his hair. It makes him ridiculously sexy. Sleepy eyes behind those gorgeous dark rimmed glasses that are a little smudged from sleeping with them on, messy hair, a line across his cheek from where he was laying against me. Sexy. Adorable.

Unlike what I’m sure I look like with mascara no doubt smudged under my eyes and hair a ratty mess rather than cute the way his is. I run a hand over my hair, hoping it’s not sticking up in a million different directions.

“Stop,” he says, taking my hand in his and moving it away from fussing with my hair. “Your hair looks beautiful.”

I snort indelicately. “I doubt that.”

“Beautiful,” he repeats quietly. Untucking my legs, I move to sit forward, knees fighting me after being bent in one position for so long.

Rex follows suit, moving to sit forward on the couch, removing his feet from the coffee table and stretching them a bit before setting them on the floor. He uses the heel of his hand to rub his eyes, elbows resting on his knees. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.”

I yawn, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. “S’okay. I don’t know which one of us fell asleep first but we were out.”

“What time is it?” His voice. Gah! It’s sleepy and sexy, too. Husky and lower than normal. I’m totally crushing on sleepy Rex. Somewhere between episode eight and nine he’d removed his shirt so he’s only in a t-shirt. It hugs his biceps but not so much that it looks like he’s busting out of it. The best part, though? I get a better look at those tattoos.

“Um,” I clear my throat and reach under my butt where my phone is wedged for some reason. “Ugh. It’s a little after three.”

“No wonder we were out.”

“I figured you’d be used to that, staying up late. Working at the bar until close.” I yawn again, making an embarrassing sound when I do it.

This time my yawn triggers his, along with some tears that form in his eyes after he’s finished. He takes off his glasses to wipe away the wetness and scrubs a hand down his face. Once his glasses are back on, he stands up, stretching his arms above his head. The t-shirt rides up just a hint, giving me a glimpse of his stomach. “You’d think, huh? I’m weird, though. I’ve been working there for so long that I can switch back to regular hours easily. I don’t know how, but it’s like I have a switch that triggers when I know I’m not working late and I’m usually out like a light pretty early.”

He reaches a hand out to help me stand and I grin. Such a gentleman. Unfortunately, he releases his grip on me far too soon. “Thatisweird,” I tease, poking him in the side. He jerks away, laughing and brushing my hand away. “Ticklish?”

“Mm hmm.”

I make a special note of that for later. If there is a later. Dang I hope there’s a later.

Twisting my torso, I stretch a bit, kick my legs out. For not being very old, I sure do feel like it when I end up falling asleep on the couch in an uncomfortable position.

Rex bends down and starts loading up his arms with our leftovers. I don’t even protest about him helping. I’m not an idiot — if he’s willingly helping me clean up, I’m not going to stop him.

Together, we carry everything into my kitchen, throw away what we need to and put clips on the open bags of chips and pretzels. “Think this is still good?” he asks, lifting a jar of salsa that we dug into.

I shrug. “Sure. If I eat some and end up sick, I’ll know better for next time.”

He grins this cute little side grin like I amuse him and puts it away in the fridge.

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