26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter twenty-six
Carter
My room is too bright when I wake up. I keep my eyes closed, hoping to fall back into the peaceful sleep I just had.
It’s been so long since I’d slept this well.
I’m warm, cozy, and don’t want to get up.
I shift and there’s a heavy weight over me.
That’s when it all comes back. I pop my eyes open to see Nash’s toned forearm wrapped around me like I’ll float away if he loosens it even slightly.
He’s warm and solid behind me, breathing gently. Still asleep.
I look around the room, just flicking my gaze here and there, trying to figure out how I feel about this.
All I feel right now is peace. That beautiful feeling you get when you first wake up and everything is right.
I can’t remember the last time I felt so good.
So I close my eyes and let myself feel it for as long as I can.
I have no idea how long I lay in his arms for, but every single second of it is calm. Content. Like he makes all the bad stuff go away.
He sucks in a sharp breath, his body stiffening as he stretches.
Pausing, I hear him hold his breath. A moment.
Two. Then he lets it out and cuddles against me, holding me tighter and I smile to myself.
His nose runs across the back of my head, nuzzling.
Smelling. I slide my hand over his so my palm is against the back and interlock our fingers. He squeezes gently, and I squeeze back.
So… we both know the other is awake now. We’re both aware of what we’re doing and that the other person approves. What does it mean?
It doesn’t have to mean anything. It can’t.
We stay like this without saying a word, just enjoying the quiet, calm of the morning.
I don’t know what time it is, but we both have to be at work at some point.
My alarm is on, as it always is, and I’m sure he has one too.
Neither has gone off yet, so that could be a good thing.
Maybe it’s early and we have lots of time like this.
The silence is around us, loud in a way that’s noticeable but still comforting.
Normal. I stare down at our joined hands, the way our fingers are locked together.
His skin is tanner than mine, like he’s spent a lot of time in the sun.
Or maybe it’s just that golden California skin in his blood.
His hand is bigger than mine. Rougher, but not as rough as I thought it’d be.
I pull my hand back, and he lets me, but I don’t remove it from him.
I run my fingers along his wrist, then up and down his arm, feeling his soft skin and the firm muscles beneath.
From this angle, I can’t go much higher and I can’t reach anything else to touch, but I would if I could. Maybe it’s good that I can’t.
Or maybe…
I roll in his arms, finding his gaze curious and on me.
Everything about his expression tells me the ball is in my court.
I can see it. I can feel it. Whatever I want right now, he’ll give it to me.
I don’t know how to explain how I know. I just do.
It’s all part of that thing that’s between us, this rare thing that allows us to just understand the other.
I bring my hand up to his face, brushing my fingers along the soft skin of his cheek before running it through his trimmed beard, then back up and over his head to rest at the back of his neck.
His eyes flutter, like they want to close, but he keeps watching like he can’t look away.
His arm is still around me, still the same way it was before, only maybe he’s holding a little tighter now.
I wonder if he wants to touch me the way I want to touch him.
“Nash,” I whisper, running my hand across his neck and up to brush my thumb over his bottom lip. They part and he swallows. I blink, then look up into his brown eyes.
Nothing there gives away what he wants, but something tells me what I need to know.
We’ve been on the same page since we first met one another at that bar.
Our conversation was a little off, but I was drunk, so it doesn’t count.
But ever since that night? We’re in sync, like two magnets that have been waiting to find each other.
I don’t know how it’s possible or when it happened, but somewhere along the way over the last couple of weeks, Nash has become the person I rely on.
He’s always on my mind. I go to him for help.
I go to him when I’m happy. I share things with him.
The good and the bad. And not once has he ever treated me like shit for still grieving Ryan.
Not once has he said I need to get over it or that it’s time to move on.
But that’s because he knows grief too, even if he hasn’t opened up about it yet. He will. When he’s ready.
I lean in before I overthink it, replacing my thumb with my lips.
It’s a soft, gentle press of my lips against his.
At first, he does nothing. But then he responds, and it is everything.
He kisses me back, deepening the kiss just enough that I know he thinks about more too.
His hand tightens around me, pulling me closer against his body. There isn’t even an inch between us.
Our mouths open at the same time, tongue sliding toward the other like it’s just how it’s supposed to be. I moan softly. His breathing gets rough.
This could quickly turn heated, turn to more, but that is not something I’m ready for. Not yet. Maybe one day. Maybe soon. But… not now.
I put my hand on the center of his chest and nip at his bottom lip before pulling back. He’s watching me like he can’t figure out what I am. Like I’m an alien who just blew his mind and he doesn’t know what to do with me. Nothing there says he’s angry about me stopping him.
“Good morning.” I smile.
The corner of his lips turn up just a bit, but his eyes brighten. “Morning,” he rasps out, his voice so sexy like that. “What time do you have to be at work?”
“Ten.”
“I’ll drop you at home on my way in.”
I nod as I lean in to tap my nose to his. “Okay.”
He pulls me tighter, and I rest my cheek against his chest while his chin rests on my head.
We fall into this peaceful sort of half-asleep, half-awake state until his alarm goes off.
I could guess it’s around six. He seems like a wake-up-at-six-a.m. kind of guy.
Especially if he has to be at work at eight.
Which, I think he does. He reaches for his phone on the end table to shut it off, then lets out a sigh as he settles against me, just holding me.
Just laying here. With me. No words needed.
Just us. Just this understanding that we both seem to have for one another.
It’s the sort of thing you can’t explain, that just is.
A short time later, the alarm goes off again. He does the same thing. Shuts it off. Cuddles closer.
“Don’t you have to get up?” I ask.
“Unfortunately.”
We lay together for another five minutes or so before we peel apart and get up.
I play on my phone while Nash gets ready for work.
I try to sneak glances at him, but I hardly get to see anything at all.
His bedroom and bathroom are down the hall, so the only glimpse I get is of him walking shirtless from his bedroom to the bathroom.
My cheeks burn so hot I look away. How will I be able to handle more than a kiss if I can’t even look at him shirtless? The definition of his arms and shoulders—fuck.
When he comes out and tells me he’s ready, I can hardly breathe. He’s dressed in dark grey slacks and a white button up that he looks so damn hot in. My dick reacts, but I ignore it.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Whenever you are,” I say, trying to keep my composure.
“Let’s go then.” I get up and we head for the front door. “Oh, hold on. I forgot something.”
I wait in the doorway for him. He comes back with a Tupperware in his hand. He offers it to me. “This is for you.”
I stare at it, then look up at him. “You made me lunch?”
“Well, I made dinner and put some aside for you for lunch.”
My chest gets so tight I can’t breathe again. I take the container. “Thank you.”
He smiles, but I don’t think he really understands how much this means to me. How much all of it means to me, all the little things he’s done and continues to do for me. Taking care of people is what Nash does. But how did I get so lucky that I’m the one he’s taking care of?