He said it last night, whispered it actually, as he wrapped himself around me and settled us both in to catch our breath. I’m not sure if he intended to say it out loud.
Not that it matters.
Except, I’m not sure how I feel about it. And frankly, after a night of some of the best sex I’ve had in… ever, I guess it means I’m okay with it.
Because I definitely feel pretty possessive when it comes to him too.
But now it’s the morning after, and historically speaking, we’re not good at this part. Is it going to be awkward? Is he not going to call for a week again, and then act affronted when I’m mad?
Ugh, this part sucks.
He’s not wrapped around me anymore. Thankfully, he’s the same as me in that the snuggles are nice for about three minutes, and then it’s time to roll away and sleep in a position that isn’t as hot as the devil’s house. But the sweet thing is, even in sleep, he keeps tabs on me. His hand on my arm, his foot on my calf. He’s always touching me in some way.
And I like it. It makes me feel safe. I don’t remember the last time someone else made me feel safe. Even my own father loved me, but I didn’t ever dare let my guard down with him.
With Declan, I sleep like a baby. Of course, that could simply be exhaustion.
The man knows his way around the bedroom. And the bathroom and the stairs, if memory serves correctly.
I grin and stretch, look over my shoulder at the man himself, then slip from the bed and hunt up my clothes, scattered about the room. The sun is up, but just barely, bathing Declan’s bedroom in that early morning glow.
I pull my bra on, and am just slipping my shirt over my head when I hear, “Where are you going?”
“Home.” I grin at him as I push my hands through my hair, shaking it out. “Sorry I woke you.”
“I’m not,” he replies and sits up. His hazel eyes, heavy with sleep, narrow on me as I wince. “What’s wrong?”
I’m sore from you fucking the living hell out of me all night long. Not that I can tell him that. “Just stepped wrong,” I reply, hearing the lameness with my own ears.
“Maybe you should—“
We both speak at the same time, then smile. “You go,” I say.
“Stay,” he simply says and slowly crawls out of bed, gloriously naked, and walks to me. I can’t stop my eyes from roaming up and down his lean, tall body. His tanned skin is smooth over lean muscles, his arms tattooed.
“I can go home,” I murmur, but Declan reaches for me and pulls me against him. His hand slides from my neck to my ass, where he grips onto me firmly.
“I’ve never asked anyone to stay before,” he whispers, then kisses my forehead. “I’m asking you, Calliope, to spend the day with me.”