Chapter Forty
Elle
Enough, was enough. I had been lying in Stephen’s bed for at least an hour, maybe more, wearing one of his large, soft t-shirts, breathing in his scent from the crisp sheets, skin tingling with the memory of his touch, my mind unable to stop looping the sensation of his lips on mine, or his voice whispering “What do you want to do now?”
I might as well have been penetrated by him for how much he was consuming my body and soul. Actual, literal sex, could hardly have been more invasive. Certainly less of a time suck. Unless…no, I couldn’t let my mind go there.
This wouldn’t be the first night I’d lain awake, tossing and turning because I couldn’t get him out of my head.
But those nights he hadn’t been just a staircase away.
I could picture him, stretched out on the sofa, one arm folded behind his head, biceps bulging, his t-shirt pulled up so a strip of his abdomen was on display, his sweat pants dragged down a little too, the start of those muscles by his hips on show…
maybe the material of his pants would even be tented a bit?
Maybe he was thinking about me, lying up here…
and maybe he was going to slide his hand down into his sweat pants and wrap long fingers around –
I stifled a groan and flipped over onto my front, burying my head under his pillow. Sometimes the imagination of a writer was not a blessing.
I had to get a grip on myself. Deal with the facts.
Fact One: I desperately wanted to sleep with Stephen.
Fact Two: I also had feelings for Stephen.
Fact Three: If I slept with him, it was highly likely those feelings would intensify.
Fact Four: He was not interested in long-term relationships.
Fact Five: I was only interested in long-term relationships.
Fact Six: This made us incompatible for a relationship…but not for sex. (Fact One was at number one for a reason.)
Fact Seven: I had reached the point where my attachment to him was going to bring me unhappiness whether I did sleep with him or not – exhibit A being the cyclone of hormones and angst I currently had whirling around my nervous system. If we had sex at least I should get some orgasms out of it.
I knew Fact Seven was conveniently ignoring Fact Three. Did orgasms make it worth increased emotional pain? And what if I didn’t end up getting any orgasms?
Huh. Maybe that would help me get over the feelings? If he was rubbish in bed, his appeal would definitely lessen. Maybe sleeping with him was exactly what I needed to get over this?
Great, now I was trying to convince myself that sleeping with him would get it out of my system, like that had ever worked for anybody, ever. It was official, my brain had joined forces with my libido and turned against me too.
I snapped my head up from the pillow, trying to escape the scent of him, like it was some kind of hypnotic drug, but the muscles in my neck, shoulders and back protested the sudden movement and seized in a painful chain reaction.
‘Aagh,’ I couldn’t help but let out a strangled noise as everything tightened and I was gripped by the inability to move. ‘Shit,’ I panted, tears pricking at my eyes.
‘Elle?’ Stephen’s voice floated up from the lower floor. ‘Are you OK?’
I took a few, slow, deep breaths, trying to relax my muscles so I could reply in the affirmative honestly, but all it did was shoot more messages of pain up into my skull. ‘Fuck,’ I whimpered.
I don’t know if he heard me or not, but his footsteps sounded on the staircase.
‘I’m coming up to check on you, so tell me to go away now if you don’t want me to.’
Excellent. I supposed this was going to put the nail in the coffin with regard to his interest anyway. A man who only conducted no-strings, steamy affairs would be sooo attracted to a woman who couldn’t even lift her head from a pillow without needing a trip to the ER.
I lowered my head in defeat and shut my eyes as he entered the room and approached.
‘Elle?’ he whispered, uncertainly. ‘Are you awake?’
‘Yep.’
‘What happened? Was it a bad dream or…?’
‘No. My back has seized up.’ I rushed the words out because even speaking was making it spasm.
‘Has this happened before?’
‘Once or twice.’
‘Do you know what helps?’
‘Have you got any pain killers? I usually just –’ I grimaced and took a small sip of air to finish my sentence, ‘pop a couple of those and wait until the muscles relax.’
‘Hmm.’ He sounded dubious but went into the en-suite where I could hear him rummaging around in a cupboard.
When he came back in, he knelt down beside the bed and I forced myself to open my eyes and face him.
His gorgeous face was showing nothing but concern for me, damn him.
‘I can get you some painkillers but I have some deep heat too.
Do you— ‘ he cleared his throat. ‘Would you like me to rub some onto your back?’
‘Err…’
‘It will probably work faster to relax your muscles. But I can look for some painkillers if you’d prefer that,’ he repeated.
I was a weak woman. Weak from pain and exhaustion and wanting. ‘Deep heat is good.’
He seemed to still and then pressed his lips together and nodded sharply. ‘Right.’ He stood up and moved out of my angle of view.