Page 67 of Hot and Bothered
I did. I did love Evan. I loved him in the “I’m in love with you” sort of way. I wanted to be with him forever. Endless movie nights, and morning breakfasts, and burrito dinners — the thought of it made my heart glow and swell, so much so I thought it might light up the room and chase away the evening darkness.
I propped myself up on my elbow to look at Evan. He was already snoozing, taking soft breaths as his chest moved up and down, but his arms were still wrapped tight around me, even as he slept.
I smiled and snuggled back down into his side.
Maybe it was possible to get my happily-ever-after.
25
When I woke up the next morning, my chest was tight. For a moment I forgot Evan and I had made up. My mind was still fixated on the thought of losing him.
But I soon became aware of warm arms around me and a heavy weight pinning me to the bed. Somehow, in the middle of the night, we’d switched positions. Instead of me lying on Evan’s broad chest, we had turned over and now his head was resting on my stomach and his leg was wedged between mine.
The tightness in my chest eased, replaced by a sense of peace and relief.
It had only been one day, but fighting with Evan had been heart-wrenching. I’d never seen him upset at anything, so seeing him upset with me was nearly unbearable.
I didn’t know what I would have done if he’d stayed mad. If he hadn’t forgiven me.
I didn’t want to think about it. So I didn’t. I turned my thoughts to more pleasant things. Like the gorgeous man in my arms.
I enjoyed having Evan so close to me, enjoyed the feeling of his skin pressed against mine. I especially enjoyed the tingling sensation between my thighs as his knee brushed up against my core. A quick little shiver went through me as I remembered all our previous encounters, as I remembered all the pleasure he had wrung from my body.
But I was also slowly being suffocated, my rib cage struggling to expand under his weight. I experimented with a small push, seeing if I could shift Evan off me without waking him. He didn’t budge. He simply let out a quiet grunt and buried his face further into my stomach. I gave another push, harder this time, using all my strength, and still, I couldn’t move him.
He looked so cute when he was asleep, his face slack and soft, his full lips parted slightly, and his messy hair falling over his forehead. I hated to wake him, but my lungs were straining. I let out a breath and gave a little internal shrug.
“Evan,” I said loudly with a jabbing poke of my finger on his shoulder.
He grunted again.
“Wake up.” I poked again, harder this time.
He made grumbling sounds.
“You need to move.” I poked him again and again. “I can’t breathe.”
He raised his head quickly, like a badger popping out of a hole, lifting his weight from my stomach.
I inhaled deeply, fresh air filling my lungs. Evan’s sleepy-warm scent tickled my nose, a delicious thing to wake up to in the morning. I wanted to soak up that smell, I wanted to bathe in it, I wanted to bury myself under it.
Evan flopped over onto his side, his body still listless from sleep. He peeked one eye open, squinting in the bright sunlight.
“Are you awake now?” I asked.
He groaned and put an arm across his face to shield his eyes.
“No,” he murmured.
I rolled over too, facing him.
“It’s Monday, so we don’t have to get up if you don’t want to,” I told him. “But your sister is still here and she might wonder what we’re getting up to if we lie around in bed all day.”
He removed his arm from his eyes and blew out a breath.
“You’re right,” he said. “At the very least, I should see her before she leaves for school. She’s got class today.”
Evan and I lumbered out of bed and threw on casual clothes, sweatpants for him and yoga pants for me. I’d gotten used to wearing them around the house, but I still wasn’t comfortable wearing them outside in public. We made our way to the kitchen where Christie was flipping through a textbook. She looked up when we came in.
