Chapter 14 #2
I don’t wait for Isaac’s refusal, simply grab my jeans off the floor and tug them on. He sits up abruptly as I head for the hallway.
“A shirt?” he calls.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, positive his flush has nothing to do with anyone potentially catching sight of me leaving his room shirtless and everything to do with the visual itself. Isaac has made no secret of his appreciation for my tattoos. “Be right back, Red.”
The house is still as I make the short trek downstairs. I’m starting to think the music playing might be a standard soundtrack to someone’s sleep. There’s already a light on in the kitchen, so I open cupboards until I find glasses. I fill two with water before returning to Isaac’s room.
He’s sitting up when I walk in, his back against the wall.
The sheet is tugged over his lap, his hair a mess and his eyes sleepy in a way they weren’t before.
I hand over a water, downing my own and waiting for him to drink his fill before I set both glasses on his nightstand.
Isaac watches me curiously as I crawl his way, not expecting, I’d bet, to be tugged back down flat against the mattress.
A smile quirks his lips as I settle over him, the sheet stuck between our legs.
I heave out a breath, Isaac’s smaller body fitting beneath mine perfectly.
I’ve never had a specific thing for men smaller than me, but everything about Isaac is appealing.
His fight. His surrender. His fiery red hair and the fact that I could toss him over my shoulder and cart him away if need be.
He has me wrapped neatly around his little finger, a fact I’m starting to suspect he realizes.
I settle half to Isaac’s side, my head on my bent arm. His fingers trail over my bicep, along intricately designed ink.
“Are you staying tonight?” he asks. “I mean, it’s practically morning already.”
It is morning, but I know what he means. “I’m staying.”
He nods, letting loose the tiniest breath. “Is it going to be like that every time? That…intense?”
Isaac’s eyes stay locked on my arm, as if he’s scared to meet my eye. Scared, maybe, to find out if tonight was a dream.
Scared that perhaps it wasn’t.
“You know why it’s so good, don’t you?” I ask him.
He swallows heavily, a long few seconds passing before he speaks. “Because we fit.”
“Yeah, Red. We do.”
He nods again, tracing the teeth of a tiger near my shoulder. “Tell me something honest?”
My pulse steadies as I watch Isaac discover my tattoos. I’ll reassure him a million times over that we’re real if that’s what he needs.
“I look at you and see tomorrow. When the sun rises over the edge of the sky. Each minute, each hour, an endless hello. For not a piece of me will ever be ready to say goodbye. Dark will gather, when the sun goes down. But with it is knowledge carved true. Every tomorrow, coming and gone, is another blinding promise of you.”
Isaac’s lips press tightly together, his eyes shining. “How do you do that? Come up with something on the spot like that?”
“You make it easy,” I admit.
He puffs out a breath, eyes meeting mine at last. There’s mirth there as his gaze runs over me fondly. “You should have been a poet, Trevor Slade.”
I hum. “Maybe one day I’ll publish my Book of Isaac.”
“Stop,” he moans, even as a smile makes his cheeks pop. “I can’t be the only thing you wax poetic about.”
“Well…” I clear my throat. “There was also your asshole.”
He blinks before shoving my shoulder. “That still counts as me. You have to have a poem ready for, I don’t know, the beauty of grass or something.”
“Am I Walt Whitman now?”
“He wishes. Come on. Give me something about verdant blades aplenty or…whatever.”
I snort. “I would, but all I can think about is flickering blue flames and lips I’m positive could show me heaven.”
Isaac tucks his face against my chest, biting lightly. His voice is muffled against my skin. “You’re a sap. A filthy, filthy sap.”
I kiss the top of Isaac’s head, my smile a permanent fixture.
Huffing, Isaac rolls to his back, wiping at his eye. “I really don’t want to move, but I need to pee.”
Taking the unspoken hint, I slide my leg off him and scoot toward the wall. Sighing, Isaac slips to the edge of the bed. When his feet hit the floor, he wobbles before catching himself on the mattress. I don’t say a word, but he glares back at me. “Not a single peep, you smug bastard.”
I zip my lips.
Isaac finds his footing after a couple steps, tugging on sweats and a t-shirt on rather shaky legs. Each time he looks back at me, I do my best to hide my smile.
With an eye roll I can practically hear, Isaac heads out of the room. He isn’t gone long, shuffling back inside a mere few minutes later.
“You’re going to let me lie on top of you,” he says, shutting off the lamp and climbing onto the bed. “And you’re not going to say a word about it.”
“About what?” I dutifully reply, lying flat so Isaac can get comfortable however he’d like.
He feels me out before patting my chest. “Atta boy.”
Isaac lets out a sigh as he settles over top of me, his weight not enough for me to mind sleeping this way. I slip an arm around his waist and fling the sheet up over the both of us with my other hand. “Night, Red.”
“Tomorrow,” he nearly whispers.
Maybe it’s in my head, but after the words I spoke to him earlier, that tomorrow feels very much like a promise.