Page 116 of Rules to Love By

He wiggled deeper into the cushions, closer to Eli’s heat, his back to Eli’s chest. If he couldn’t sleep, he could at least be comfortable.

“You staying, then?” Eli asked.

“Obvo.” But that reminded Marcus, and he dug his phone from his back pocket, quickly texted Tris, then tossed it onto the mattress.

Eli kissed the back of his neck. “I can live with that.”

The kiss and the words sent chills racing down his back, coursing through his body, and did nothing to ease the slight bulge in his jeans. He sighed and closed his eyes. Inevitably, his brain geared back up, reminding him of all the problems he brought to Eli’s table—or bed as the case may be—and all the solutions he didn’t have.

Trying to stifle the thoughts before they could get a foothold, he strained past them to hear the soft sounds of the house below them. If he could identify the noises, maybe that would be enough to occupy his stupid brain until it tired out and fell asleep like a toddler in the middle of their toys.

For what felt like a long time, they stayed that way before Eli shifted a tiny bit. “You asleep?” he whispered.

Marcus yawned. “Unfortunately not.”

“What can I do?”

Marcus squirmed again, punching a pillow out of the way of his shoulder and tugging another one against his chest. Once he was settled, Eli’s arm went back around him, and he sighed. “You’re doing it.”

“But you have the cops tomorrow. You need real sleep. You have to stop spinning.” He kissed Marcus’s temple for emphasis.

“If only that’s how insomnia worked.”

After that, he slipped into a fugue state, still cataloguing house sounds while he listened to Eli—who only snored a little bit—sleep soundly.

When morning presented herself, he detected a few subtle changes to the room without opening his eyes. A window was open somewhere, admitting birdsong and a cool breeze that flitted over his exposed skin. The bed curtain had been drawn almost closed, blockading him from the rest of the room. A light quilt covered him. Something warm and hard pressed the length of his back, but there was no arm around him.

He stretched and rolled onto his back to find Eli, sitting up against the headboard, coffee cup in one hand, phone in the other, connected to a set of headphones.

“Hey.”

Eli touched his phone screen, then smiled as he removed an earbud.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

“Hey yourself.”

Struggling with the familiar weak-limbed grogginess that came with the morning after a night of half-sleep, Marcus managed to get his back up against the headboard and a pile of pillows. He caught a glimpse of a page of text before Eli set his phone aside.

“What are you doing?” Marcus leaned over him to pick up the phone, even as his gut heaved. “Were you reading? I thought—”

Eli gently removed the phone from his grip, unplugged the earbuds, and touched the screen.

A—probably—male monotone voice droned out of the tinny speakers, something about brain chemistry and homeopathic sleep aids.

“Phone reads it to me,” Eli said.

“You’re researching insomnia?” Marcus took the phone again and scrolled through all the open windows. “How long have you been awake?”

Eli shrugged. “Couple of hours. Tris called around four, looking for you. I thought you texted him.”

“I did.” Marcus groped for his phone and unlocked it. “Shit.” There was the text, sitting undelivered. “4G wasn’t on. And my phone doesn’t know your Wi-Fi. It didn’t send.” He pushed the blankets back. “I have to go.”

The room was downright chilly without the quilt and Eli’s body heat. He shivered.

“He knows where you are.” Eli rolled to his feet too, already dressed in clean clothes, socks, and obviously shaved.

Marcus frowned at him. “I thought I was the one with insomnia.”

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