Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
CLARK
I’ve never been a morning person. I’m more of a grumble at the light, try to kill my alarm clock, forget that classes start bright o’fucking clock in the morning kind of guy.
But this morning?
This morning, I’m waking with Rachel in my arms, tangled in my sheets, her hair now stuck to my arm because we didn’t shower before we fell into a blissful post sex slumber. Her leg is draped over mine, and her hand is tangled in the sheets like she’s holding on for dear life.
Suddenly, I’m a morning person after all.
Her face is tucked into the side of my neck, soft, slow breaths warming my collarbone. Her hair, as I said, was a disaster and stuck to everything. And I have never in my life seen anything more beautiful.
She’s out cold, dead to the world around us. There’s a tiny patch of drool forming on my shoulder, and I can’t even bring myself to be mad at it.
The sun’s coming through the half-closed blinds, casting a line of light down her bare back. She shifts slightly, pressing in closer like her unconscious body just instinctively wants to be closer to mine.
And I’m lying here, still, quiet, completely smitten. And not trying to freak out that I have to leave tomorrow. That last night actually happened.
The way she kissed me? Damn. It wasn’t just the alcohol or the sexual chemistry that was between us. She kissed me like she meant it. Like she was yearning for it all as much as I was.
Now, she’s asleep beside me, and I’m trying to play it cool. Like I didn’t fall completely in love with her somewhere between her moan when I first slipped inside of her to the second time she yelled my name like I was a prayer finally being answered.
Her fingers twitch, and she lets out a tiny sigh, somewhere between a sleepy sigh and a kitten's purr. I get hard again on the spot.
This should be awkward, right? This should be me, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell we did and how I’m going to explain my feelings to Clara without being burned at the stake.
Instead? I feel calm. Peaceful. Content.
And if I’m being brutally honest, I feel…right. Like this is the thing that was always supposed to happen. But we kept circling around it, waiting for the other to say “Fuck it,” and light the match.
Well, the fire is burning, the whole damn future is burning down and rewriting itself. Rachel is in my arms, like this was predestined. The only thing on my mind right now is how to make this right.
How do I make sure this isn’t only one night? Make her believe she’s mine, I’m in this for the long haul, and there’s no getting rid of me now?
I know she’s probably going to panic. Rachel doesn’t do feelings unless they’re her family or my sister. She won’t want to confess to my sister. She’ll say we got it out of our systems and want to walk away.
But I know she’ll be lying. I was there. I’m not letting her get out of this. I’m going to keep her here and make her admit that this thing is what it was always meant to be.
I’ll wait, though. I’ll let her sleep more. I’m not moving, not one inch, though my bladder is opposed. Not while she’s here, warm, and real, curled up in my arms, exactly where she belongs. Not while the person who has now changed the course of my life is still asleep on my chest.