Page 77 of Powerless
I feel so fucking horny I could burst.
21
Sloane
Icrawl into my creaky cot, feeling it wobble as I berate myself for being so stubborn that I thought this rickety little kid’s bed—that’s probably seen some nighttime accidents—was a better idea than sleeping in the same bed as Jasper.
The thump of his feet across the room actually shakes the cot. I’ve got my back turned to him and my eyes squeezed shut, so my auditory sense is heightened. I can hear him putting on clothes. The zipper on his bag. The wispy popping noise of his big, stupid head coming through the neckhole of his shirt.
The head that pops up every time I close my eyes lately. How could he have seen me this way for so long and said nothing? Watched me date other Almost marry one?
I guess I should ask myself the same question. Maybe I have a small, stupid head. Maybe we were both so good at hiding it and convincing ourselves that the other could never feel the same that we’ve spent years staring at each other from a distance.
The entire thing is profoundly stupid.
Suddenly I’m aware of the heat of his body behind mine, his soft exhale at the back of my neck as he drops to his knees beside the cot. “What do you think you’re doing?”
His nearness. His voice. It’s too much. A shiver races down my spine, and I clamp my lips tight against each other to stifle whatever desperate little noise would leap from them.
“Going to sleep. You should too. Been a long day,” I whisper back huskily.
“Do you really think that I’m going to let you sleep on this joke of a cot? Or just walk away after that?”
“I don’t need—”
“Come to bed,” he urges, not backing down.
“I am in bed,” I grumble back stubbornly.
“The big bed, Sloane.”
“Seriously, get fucked, Gervais. Go snuggle with your secrets, you exhausting, broody asshole. I’m not leaving this mattress. I’m putting my foot down.”
I peek at him over my shoulder, and he gives me a little smirk. “There she is.”
“Yes,” I huff, turning away and hearing the mattress creak. “Here I am.”
Hands reach between the thin mattress and the metal coils beneath it. I go rigid as Jasper drops his mouth to the shell of my ear. “I told you that you aren’t sleeping here. And I fucking meant it.”
When he lifts me, I squeal. The mattress is so shitty it curls up around me, making me into a little Sloane taco.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I shout at him, not wanting to squirm too hard in my precarious position.
He turns with me and the mattress and all the bedding in his strong hold and takes three long strides toward the bed before gently plopping me down on the king-size bed.
I sit up, glaring at him, but he takes no notice. In fact, he turns around, grabs the cot frame, drags it to the door, and tosses it out into the hallway with a loud metal clang. Then he locks the door struts back to the bed.
Looking all fucking smug and satisfied.
“Did you hear me, Gervais? I asked you what the hell you think you’re doing?”
He flips the covers back on his side of the bed, a few inches lower than where I’m lying beside him, and flops onto the bed.
“Are you smiling?” My voice is shrill now.
“You told me you weren’t leaving that mattress, Sunny. I’m just trying to respect your wishes.”
I punch him in the bicep, and helaughs.
