The next time I woke up, it was to the sound of Riot’s deep breaths, the rhythmic movement of his chest under my cheek, and the bright sunlight filtering through the blinds in my bedroom. I was warm, still wrapped up in his arms, and more comfortable than should be possible. Besides the one time I’d woken earlier that night, I’d slept deeply and long. I was well rested and wide awake.
I slowly lifted my head and took a moment to stare at his face. There was no denying, by anyone, that Riot was attractive. You didn’t get lead parts on network cop dramas if you weren’t. He was becoming somewhat of a household name and heartthrob, and only a few episodes had aired. He was tall, dark, and stupidly handsome. But lying in my bed, holding me close, he looked adorable. His face was almost childlike when he slept. With his dangerously sexy eyes closed, his face took on a wholly different, peaceful quality, which was quite nearly innocent looking.
I knew he’d worked late the night before, or even early that morning, and I didn’t want to wake him, so I tried to sneak out of his grasp slowly. I’d made it almost out of the circle of his arms before his voice startled me.
“If you leave, I won’t be able to sleep,” he said with his adorably cute, sleepy voice. My body went lax where I’d been stopped and I leaned over, resting my head against his stomach.
“That seems a little extreme.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, I’m only saying, we’ve spent just as many nights together in the last week as we had in our whole relationship almost. It’s brand-new. You can’t be that reliant upon my presence for sleep yet.”
Riot knifed up in the bed, grabbed me, and then, suddenly, I was on my back and he was above me.
“I spent so many nights without you because it’s what I thought you wanted, what I thought you needed. If it had been up to me I never would have left your side, I would have been there every moment to help you through your mourning. But you told me to go. And that’s okay. I understand. But I’m not going to lie to you and tell you it was easy for me. It wasn’t. Every night I lay in my bed wishing I could hold you, hoping for just a faint waft of your shampoo from the one pillow you used, which I slept with every night. I hoped you were okay. Prayed you were eating enough, that you weren’t alone all the time, that someone was there to make you laugh every once in a while just to remind you that it wasn’t all darkness everywhere.
“So, yes, the last few nights I’ve not only gotten used to you sleeping next to me, it’s given something back to me that I thought I might have lost forever, and I’m not ready to take it for granted yet. So, unless you’ve got somewhere pressing to be, please, just lie with me.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding slightly. He let out a large sigh, rolled off me, then pulled me to his side again. I found my special place made just for me and tentatively snuggled in. A few moments passed, thick with silent tension. I slowly reached up and placed my hand on his chest and when his hand came up to cover mine, I let out my own thankful breath.
“You know it wasn’t you, right?” He didn’t answer my question, but I felt his chest stop moving, so I knew he’d heard me. I continued anyway. “I didn’t push you away, I was hiding myself from you. From everyone. Everything. It’s true that seeing you was difficult, but only because it ate at me that I was with a man when Marcus had his accident. Or, more to the point, that I wasn’t with him. Right after his death there was an enormous part of me that was eclipsed by guilt. As the guilt waned, rationality came back, and I understood, mostly, that it wasn’t my fault, but I still struggle with that sometimes.
“But aside from that,” I continued, “the whole experience sort of fit into what I’d pretty much built my entire adult life around. I’d told myself that I wasn’t ever going to be in a committed relationship with a man, that I wasn’t meant to have that as a part of my life.”
“And now?” he asked, still not looking at me, breaths shallow, hand still clasped around mine.
“Now I know that I was standing still before you, tethered to a good life with Marcus, but never reaching for greatness, never looking for anything more.” I leaned up on an elbow to look at him, my hand pulling away from his but smoothing over his chest and trailing down his rib cage. “You set me free, Riot. I’m never tied down with you, never stifled or smothered. The only thing I want to be tied to, is you.”
“You know I’m bound to you too, right? Being away from you was unbearable, but I knew it was something you needed. I knew that if I forced myself into your life, if I didn’t let you figure it out on your own, we’d never stand a chance. But I was never whole without you.” His hand came up and cupped my face, his eyes never wavering from mine. “That all being said, it’s Sunday morning and I want you in bed with me.”
I smiled at that. “Okay.” I leaned down and gave him a small kiss, then snuggled back into my place. A few minutes later, when I knew Riot hadn’t gone back to sleep, I asked, “Do you want to go to Ella and Porter’s beach house for Thanksgiving?”
“Sure,” he said immediately.
My brow furrowed. “You don’t need to spend Thanksgiving with your family?”