Page 37 of Tear Me to Pieces
So much of what I’ve done since leaving Arkansas has been a knee-jerk reaction. Me throwing out as manyfuck yousas I can. That’s not what this is. This is me doing something in spite of how I was raised. Not because of it.
Simon looks me over before collecting his empty plate and mine. “As long as you know.”
I watch as he racks our dishes in the washer, adding the cutting board and knife I used, before dropping in a soap pack and setting it to run. He doesn’t act like it’s a chore. Doesn’t groan or piss and moan about having to do something he feels is beneath him. It’s simply a task. One he doesn’t mind doing.
And I really like that about him. I really like a lot of things about him.
Pressing my lips together, trying to hide the anticipation curling through me, I ask, “Are you ready for bed?”
Simon turns to me, his big body close. “Do you have any extra pillows and blankets? I can sleep down here.”
I’m not surprised at his offer. Especially after the confessions he made while…
Whew.
I give him a little poke in the stomach I just filled. “Is that your way of telling me you snore?”
Simon shakes his head. “I don’t snore.”
“You’re a bed hog, then.” A little thing sparks through my insides at the thought of Simon crowding close to me all night long.
“It’s possible.” Simon flips off the kitchen light. “I haven’t slept with anyone else in a long time, so you might end up regretting your decision.”
I really doubt that.
I turn, making my way down the hall. “As far asyouknow, IdosnoreandI’m a bed hog who steals all the covers.” I’m feeling a little flirty. Confident in a way I’ve never been. It’s exciting. Fun. Addicting. “So you might be the one regretting your decisions.”
“I don’t think so.” Simon’s words are low enough I’m not sure I was meant to hear them.
But I do, and it has those butterflies taking up residence in my belly flapping around like crazy. I’m starting to get a little worried I won’t be able to sleep because of it, but I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Simon’s footsteps trail behind me as I head upstairs, flipping off lights as I go. I finally reach my bedroom, peeking over one shoulder as he steps in behind me. “I’ll brush my teeth and then the bathroom’s yours.”
I make quick work of flossing and scrubbing the remnants of my midnight snack off my teeth. After popping out my contacts, I pad out into the bedroom. Simon is standing exactly where I left him, so I give him a smile. “All yours.”
His posture is stiffer than normal as he goes into one of the few finished spaces of my home, closing the door behind him. I stare at it for way too long, wishing it was at least a little transparent. I was surprised at the… amount of material Simon had to work with when we were grinding against the truck, and it has me curious. I’ve seen one penis in real life, and it didn’t take up nearly as much space in the world as the one that just rubbed between my legs. It was impossible to tell exactly what I’m facing, but I witnessed enough that intimidation is most certainly settling in.
Especially since I’m thinking I would like to become better acquainted with all the parts of Simon’s body.
Toeing off the slippers I wear around my house since the floors are primarily plywood, I slide under the covers and switch on the bedside lamp. I like to watch television before I fall asleep, so I turn it on, picking the series I started a few days ago and setting it to play as the shower begins to run.
I’m ten minutes into the episode—and haven’t absorbed a single second of it—when Simon comes out of the bathroom.
“Holy shit.” The words slide between my lips all on their own.
His dark hair is wet and slicked back away from his face, the moisture from it dripping onto his broad shoulders. The sheen of his damp skin gives him a Greek god-like quality the white terry cloth towel slung low on his hips only amplifies.
My mouth goes dry when he gives me a lopsided smile, holding the front of the towel with one hand as he goes to the stack of clothes piled on top of my dresser. My eyes stay locked on him as he pauses to look over the items he brought, his lips tipping down in a frown.
I sit up straighter. “What’s wrong?”
“I, uhh…” he huffs out a laugh “...don’t actually have any pajamas.”
Well… that’s an interesting development. “What do you normally sleep in?”
“Normally?” He plucks out a pair of black boxer briefs. “These.” His eyes come to where I’m all tucked in and waiting for his mostly naked body to join me. “I can’t imagine you want?—”
“It’s fine.” I bark out the words like the eager beaver I am. “We’re both adults.” My face heats along with most of the rest of me. “And we did just…” I’m not sure how to identify the act we just committed against the unsuspecting box truck.
