Page 41 of Tower
We’re wheezing and clinging to each other, and both of us are so sweaty it’s ridiculous.
But nothing could have given me a better birthday than this.
It takes a while for us to recover, but we eventually get up to go downstairs to the bathroom before we settle for the night.
Levi is worried because he came inside me accidentally, but it’s not the time of month where it should be a problem, and our lovemaking meant too much to me for me to regret a single part of it.
I sleep for hours without waking up, and then when I do, Levi is sound asleep on his side of the bed with both arms out of the covers. One hand is clutching the coverlet in his sleep, and the other is slung haphazardly above his head.
For some reason, the sight of him sleeping like that constricts my chest with feeling. I smile over at him like a sap for a while until I scoot over and fit myself against his side.
He mutters something incomprehensible and lowers his arm to wrap around me, pulling me tighter against him. After a minute, he does that under-the-breath muttering again. This time I recognize a word.
Sweetheart.
I’m still smiling as I fall asleep again.
The next time I wake up, it feels like it’s been several more hours. I blink a few times and sense a difference in the room.
The difference is Levi. He’s awake. I know it even before I tilt my head to peer at him groggily.
His eyes are open and gazing at me.
I smile, and he smiles back.
“Good mornin’,” he drawls, using his arm to nestle me against him again.
“Hi. Is it already morning?”
“Just about. We got forty minutes or so till it’ll start getting’ light.”
“Did you sleep good?”
“You know I did. I didn’t snore, did I? Slept like the dead.”
“No. You didn’t snore. You did a little bit of muttering but not much.”
“Muttering, huh? What was I sayin’?”
“I couldn’t get many words.” I pause before I add, “Although I did hearsweetheartat one point.”
“Musta misheard that.”
“I don’t think so. I think you must’ve been dreaming about me.”
“Not likely. Think I was dreamin’ of my Harley, not my Hailey.”
I giggle at his dry tone and the wordplay. I love when he’s in this mood. And I love that he’s only this way with me. “You call your motorcycle sweetheart?”
“Sometimes. When she’s real good.”
I spill over with fond amusement, hiding my face against the side of his chest as I laugh. “Fine,” I manage to say when my giggles have faded. “I thought I was your sweetheart, but I guess I was wrong. Hailey is a sad second place to Harley.”
He draws my face up high enough for him to press a kiss against my mouth. “You are second place to no one, girl. But you already know that.”
“Why would I know that? You just said you call your motorcycle the same name you call me!”
Maybe I’m pushing a little. Teasing but pointing it out intentionally. Because I want to hear him say a few things I suspect but have never had confirmed.
