Page 146 of One Night Only
I tilt my head to look at him and can’t help myself as I brush stray strands of hair from his face. His forehead is slightly damp from sweat.
“Thank God your mattress is better than your sofa.”
He doesn’t respond, watching me with a look in his eyes that has me melting all over again and the bed dips beneath us as he moves back over me.
“That was a quick minute,” I mutter as he kisses me.
“I might need another,” he admits. “But in the meantime…” And I gasp as he disappears under the sheets, my fingers gripping his curls as he goes.
32
There’s someone in my bed.
Or rather, I’m in their bed.
I watch Declan as he sleeps. I’ve been watching him sleep ever since I woke up. Like a lunatic.
I can’t help it. It’s the first time I’ve been able tolookat him. Properly look at him. No more sneaky glances from the corner of my eye, no more hoping he won’t catch me staring. I can look. Look at the slight stubble on his chin, the faint bags under his eyes. There’s a tiny scar close to his hairline, nearly invisible. Acne maybe? Or did he fall?
Suddenly his random texts when he was gone don’t seem so stupid anymore. I want to know what his favorite bird is. I want to know what his favorite food is. I want to know what he’s like when he’s tired and when he’s happy. I want to know what kind of movies he likes, what music he listens to, what places he visits when he has the time.
I want to kiss him again.
Will we kiss when he wakes up? I definitely have morning breath. Should I brush my teeth? I don’t have my toothbrush. I don’t have anything. Nothing but my clothes on the floor and whatever is in my purse.
I don’t even know what time it is though the bright light bathing the room tells me it’s earlier than I think. I do know it’s morning.
The morning after the night before.
I let my eyes drift back to Declan, waiting for something to change, for this feeling, whatever it is to go away. But it doesn’t. The more I look, the more I feel. Warmth and comfort. Peace.
I watch him until his breathing changes and he slowly begins to wake. He’s such a heavy sleeper, I probably could have showered, dressed and left by now and he wouldn’t even have stirred.
Why haven’t I left?
Because I don’t want to.
The realization makes me giddy. I don’t want to and I don’t have to.
I can stay and watch him to my heart’s content.
When his eyelids flutter, I shut my own, feigning sleep as I listen to the gentle rustle of the sheets, his quiet exhale.
There’s a whisper of movement as he runs a finger down my nose and across my lips. It tickles my skin and I feel his breath on my cheek.
Is he going to kiss me?
“I know you’re awake,” he says, loudly.
Busted.
I open my eyes to find him staring at me, one brow raised.
“Morning,” he says.
I try to think of something to say. Something clever and cool but my mind goes blank.
“Hi.” The word comes out like a squeak. I’m immediately mortified.
