Chapter 47
47
S imon fell back into the pillows, sweaty, exhausted, and thrilled.
Next to him, Carlisle breathed heavily, her naked breasts heaving with the effort. He would have liked to roll over and watch the effects of his touch on her skin, but he didn't have himself together yet.
She had stripped him naked, dug her fingers into his shoulders, called out his name over and over. He had let her. She was the only woman to ever see everything, he thought. The only one he'd ever allowed to.
Slowly, he drifted back into his own body, sinking into the weight of it against the cool sheets and soft pillows. With what little energy he could muster, he reached out and touched her hair, stroked the side of her face, and motioned for her to roll next to him.
Carlisle let out a small, satisfied moan and attempted to scoot closer. It took a few tries and he chuckled softly at her. She slapped at his arm though not with any force.
“Don't even laugh at me,” she managed to get out. “It's your fault. ”
It was blame he would gladly take. Blame he would wear with pride.
But then she was curled up beside him in the bed with no headboard. Darcy's art hung above it as if that made up for his supreme lack of furniture or the fact that the side tables didn't match. They were each nice, both things he and Carlisle had found for a song in a secondhand store.
Why were the two of them at his house? Her home wasn’t fully finished but it was much further along than his.
He heard her breathing through the still night air. They hadn’t played any music, the tv wasn’t on, it was just the two of them. Then he felt the covers tug, tiny motions moved by small weight.
He realized then why they were here. Reaching down, he pulled up the comforter before the baby cat made it up to walk across his bare chest or, God forbid, Carlisle's.
“Mew, ” Kitten demanded.
He laughed fully now, and he felt the tiny steps along his leg as Kitten walked up between them. Putting her head into Carlisle's hand, she snuggled in, welcoming the pets she believed were her due.
He could take Kitten to Carlisle's . . . but not for long. There was no litter box. No food. He was thinking about it though. What would it take to merge the two houses? It sounded ridiculous and businesslike, not at all what he wanted.
He liked the idea of knowing that Carlisle would be there when he came home—not just some nights, but every night. Kitten would have a friend and so would Carlisle. The days weren't always easy for her. And if she went back to work, well, the thing about cats was they could handle that. Kitten would probably be a little older by then, too.
It all worked out in his fantasy, if not real life. Should he even bring it up ?
Now wasn't the time, but maybe he could get her started thinking about it.
Kitten had settled into a lump. The pet he'd never expected to have snuggled down between them where the sheet made a nice little hammock. He thought back to Carlisle out in her own hammock, reading on her summer days when he had first seen her.
He opened his mouth to say something almost exactly like that. But what came out was, “I love you.”
Beside him, she stilled. Her hand rested on his chest, no shirt, nothing between them. He instantly realized his mistake. She wasn’t ready. He froze like a deer in headlights. He'd overstepped. Damn, he wanted the shirt back . As much as he had hated it and hated the need for it, it felt like some level of safety.
Slowly, her fingers curled along his skin, but he lay still, unmoving, waiting for her to break his heart. He didn't know what that meant, that she was quiet, that she touched him but only a little.
A moment later, she whispered, “Really?”
Of all the replies she could have given, that was not one he was ready for. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out like that. I was actually thinking about the two of us moving in together.”
Well crap . He shouldn’t have said that either. “And I've completely made a shit of things, haven't I?”
She grinned and laughed. “No, you haven't.”
Simon managed to swallow one shallow breath. It wasn't the same as saying she loved him, but she wasn't bolting from the bed and darting back across the lawn in the middle of the night either.
He heard her breathing for a few moments more before the soft words tickled his ear. “I love you, too.”
“You don't have to say it.”
“I know. ”
“I mean, it took you long enough to come back with that. It's okay if you don’t feel the same, just don't boot me out.”
“It's your own house,” she pointed out, “and it took me a while to say it because I'm coming around to it myself. But it's real.”
The last of the ice melted away. He tugged her closer, satisfied as she rolled readily into his embrace. “I tell you what, just forget I said all of that and we'll go about our day tomorrow.”
“Oh, no, I don't think I'm going to forget any of that.”
“Go to sleep,” he commanded, almost laughing. Better. It was better. She loved him, too.
Within moments she was out, and he could hear her breathing. The gentle sound of it seeped into his bones. He shouldn’t be pulling her closer, but he did. The feel of her body heat next to him lulled him to sleep.
He had just dozed off when his phone rang. He had it set so only a few people could ring through overnight—one of them was Carlisle. This clearly wasn't her.
Rolling over, he grabbed for the phone, the bright screen searing his eyes. The time flashed three a.m. He had not just dozed off, it only felt that way. But his brows pulled together as he saw the name across the screen.
“Mom, what's wrong?” He was sitting up, shaking Carlisle off, though she seemed to stay asleep.
“I hate to wake you up in the middle of the night but?—”
“But nothing.” He was used to this. Not entirely, not since he’d moved. But he’d been woken in the middle of the night before, enough that it wasn't a complete shock.
“It’s Darcy. She didn't come home tonight. I don't know where she is.”