Page 161 of The Lineman

I sighed, resting my forehead against his. “Rodriguez is going to be okay.”

Elliot exhaled. “I just . . .” His voice was tight. “I hate that he got hurt because of me.”

I kissed him gently, lingering.

Then I pulled back just enough to whisper, “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

His breath caught.

And finally, I felt him relax.

I smiled. “Now. Do you want to keep arguing with me, or do you want to get cleaned up so I can properly show you how much I love you?”

“Jesus Christ.” Elliot groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are you secretly a sex addict? Some sort of horny little nymph? Am I going to be gutted and never be able to keep up?”

I grinned. “Who knows? Might be fun to find out, though.”

He let out a breathy laugh, pulling me against him. “God, I love you.”

And all my questions and doubts and fears . . . vanished.

Chapter forty-three

Elliot

Iwokeuptothe sound of nothing.

No alarm. No traffic. No responsibilities looming over me like a storm cloud. There was nothing but the soft rustling of the trees outside, the distant call of birds, and the slow, steady breaths of the man beside me.

For once, Mike was dead asleep. He usually woke before me, watched as I struggled with the sun’s vengeful smile. But that morning, his face lay half buried in the pillow, his hair a mess of rusty curls. His mouth was wide open, and I could hear the faintest little snore. It was adorable. Seriously. Disney-level adorbs.

Oh, God, I said, “Adorbs.”

Even if only in my mind, it was wrong on every level imaginable.

What was this man doing to me?

I grinned, running my fingers down his back, watching the way his pasty, unmarred skin twitched beneath my touch. We were so different. Where I was dark, he was light. Where I was serious, he was, well, sometimes serious. Okay, fine, we were more alike than not. Still, I loved how my tanned skin contrasted with his near ghostlike features.

And his hair.

Fuck me sideways with a two-by-four, his hair was godlike. It made me want to eat it—though the thought of getting it stuck in my teeth ruined the mental image.

Was I still asleep? Were these insane thoughts a dream? That would explain so much.

I glanced up at the window. The fucking sun snickered.

I hated the sun.

In fact, I had never liked mornings.

Not until now.

Not untilhim.

I leaned in, pressing a kiss to the curve of his shoulder. “Morning, Professor.”

Mike groaned, burrowing further into the sheets. “Five more minutes.”

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