Page 143 of Never Die for a Sinner
We left too much unsaid the other night. The way he took care of me. The way he’d kissed me after he’d made me come like he’s been dreaming of it all his life.
The way he seemed desperate to protect me in his nightmare.
It all sits heavily between us like the biggest elephant in the room, but neither of us breaches the subject.
Is it bad that I’m thankful?
Is it also bad that, as much as I don’t want to, I’m enjoying just having him in my space after two days of radio silence?
“I’m done,” I say quietly when the bowl is empty, placing the tray on my nightstand. My eyes are heavy, and I can’t help but blush when I blow my nose loudly. Levi doesn’t seem to care, but I do. “You don’t have to stay.”
“In a minute,” he grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV. “I’m invested.”
“You have a TV in your room.”
“It’s broken.”
I know for a fact that’s a lie.
“Fine,” I sigh, slipping down into the bed to get comfortable. Suddenly, I’m exhausted. “But don’t blame me when you get sick.”
“I think if I were going to get it, I would have gotten it by now, baby.”
My chest flutters.
He left off thegirlat the end of that again.
I can’t decide if I like it or if it’s terrifying.
“Must be hard to catch a cold when your body temperature is the same as the surface of the sun,” I muse, hiding my blush by adjusting under the covers.
He chuckles darkly under his breath. “Maybe you just have a weak immune system.”
“My immune system is offended.”
“Your immune system is a dick.”
“Tell me about it,” I grumble, and he chuckles quietly.
For what feels like eternity, we just lay there in each other’s presence. Neither of us speaking, but not really paying attention to the TV either.
Levi’s the first to break the silence, and he swallows hard. “Come here, Ava.” His tone is gentler, and for a moment, I almost think maybe Idohave a fever. Levi isn’t sweet. He doesn’t do intimacy.
I stare up into his frosty eyes when he opens his arm to me.
“I’m sick.” It’s a poor excuse. Levi and I don’t cuddle. The other night is evidence of that.
He fixes me with a look and tugs at my hand resting between us.
Gingerly, I go, laying my head down on this chest. It’s awkward and he’s stiff as a board, but there’s also a tenderness when he blows out a slight breath between his teeth that I’m not used to. Something warm and sweet and dangerous.
“Thank you for feeding me,” I say softly, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. It’s beating so fast . . .
“Don’t mention it,” he says, his voice rough.
The silence in the air hums between us, especially now that the show has ended.
“Have you ever cuddled before?”
