Page 43 of Drive Me Crazy
She pauses at this and I briefly worry she thinks I’m propositioning her for sex. Again. Yeah, I want to fuck her, but none of the circumstances I have imagined that happening in (and there are many) have played out like this.
“And I’m not about to stay up all night worrying if you’re okay. So just let me annoy you for one night. Then I’m back to my own bed and you can bring back as many women as you’d like to fuck and cuddle and sleep naked with.”
Now I feel like a bloody bastard.Fuck.I can tell my aversion to the situation makes her uncomfortable. The clicker lies untouched next to her as she watches TV, although it’s obvious she can’t understand a word of what’s being said. A few moments pass before I break the silence, asking if she wants to order room service.
“Get me my own plate of fries, please,” she requests.
“As if I want you eating all my chips.” The room phone is on the bedside table next to where Ella’s lying. I walk over and pick up the receiver, leaving a healthy amount of space between the two of us. I’m in my towel and still can’t tell if she’s wearing anything under her sweatshirt. I pray to God she is.
Ella spends almost thirty full minutes convincing me to watch an episode ofLaw & Order: Special Victims Unit. I ask herwhy she loves it so much. It’s crime and murder, which is straight up depressing shit. Her answer? She likes when victims get justice. Fuck if that doesn’t rip my heart right in two. It’s cute when she happily hums along to the theme song and yells “bum bum” at the end. We watch a few episodes but end up spending most of the show just talking.
It’s comforting to see Ella cuddled in my bed, clearly at ease, trusting me not to take advantage of her like Brixton probably would. I may come across as an uncaring arsehole in the media, but I’m not a monster. I’d never do anything that wasn’t completely consensual. I care about Ella too much to “hump and dump” her.
We call it a night when Ella can no longer hide her yawns. I honestly can’t think of the last time I had a woman in my bed and we didn’t have sex. There’s usually not much talking that goes on between the sheets besides dirty talk.
She snuggles under the covers, looking at me expectantly. “Okay, do you want me to turn around now or what?”
I stare at her blankly. Turn around for what? The devilish look in her eyes makes my throat dry.
“I’m giving you privacy to get undressed.” She shoots me a sweet smile, testing how far I was going to take my lie. “I thought you slept naked.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
She shrugs indifferently. “You’re the one who wants me to know if you’re packing heat or not.”
Insane. This girl is going to drive me insane and yet I can’t get enough of it. I peel my shirt and shorts off, keeping my boxers on. “Don’t even say it.”
She now has the answer to whether I wear boxers or briefs, something she questioned on her podcast episode about Formula 1. Pretending to zip her lips, she nestles into the pillows. I absolutely hate sleeping on the left side of the bed, but she’s fully claimed the right side as her own. Her glasses,water bottle, and phone all rest on the bedside table. I’m not going to sleep much anyway, so I leave it alone.
“Night, Blake. Sleep well.”
“Good night, Ella.”
I’m wide awake and staring at the ceiling an hour later when I suddenly feel a warm body next to me.Lord help me. If Ella wants to screw around right now, it better be over the covers and with the lights on so I can admire every inch of her naked body.
I wait a minute to see where she’s taking this but realize she’s out cold … she’s snuggling me in her sleep. The rhythm of her breathing is steady as she curls up against me, resting her head on my chest. I carefully wrap my arm around her, pulling her closer. She sighs faintly, completely comfortable with the arrangement. I eventually fall asleep to the sound of her soft, shallow breathing.
NINETEEN
Ella
I WAKE up wrapped around Blake like a spider monkey. If I want to, I can strain my head forward a little and lick his nipple. My knee is inches from his dick, my arm’s resting on his abs, and my head’s on his chest. That’s how close and personal I’m talking. Not that I mind his body because, holy hell, but I don’t need to be on top of it with morning breath. Inch by painfully slow inch, I edge my body off his. He mumbles slightly in his sleep and my heart freezes.Please don’t wake up.
I’ve been so focused on making sure he didn’t die, I didn’t really think through the whole sleeping-in-the-same-bed-together thing. I definitely didn’t think we’d end up cuddling the whole night. My intentions were purely to ease my own mind that Blake wasn’t going to die of a brain aneurysm overnight. I’m genuinely worried about him being okay.
And last night? We were up until almost 2:00 a.m. talking about nothing and everything. My family and growing up in Chicago, Blake’s favorite places to travel, our biggest pet peeves, strangest dreams we’ve ever had, the most controversial opinions we have, our weirdest habits.
I like Blake. I like Blake a fucking lot. I’m thoroughlyscrewed, and we haven’t even screwed. The irony isn’t lost on me.
There’s no way I’m letting him wake up and see me looking like the corpse bride, so I tiptoe into the bathroom. The eight million hair products he owns are surprising. It’s like a salon in here. I didn’t even know they made Olaplex for men and here he is with three different bottles. Does he purposefully make himself look like he has a perpetual case of bedhead?
I open a jar of pomade on the counter; it’s a masculine mixture of leather and cedar. It smells just like Blake. The thought of him massaging it through his hair turns me on more than it should. Not that I’m trying to notice, but there are no strands of female hair on Blake’s brush. So either he hasn’t had a sleepover guest besides me in a while, or he recently got a new brush. Why oh why do I have to notice these things? I try to make myself look more presentable then quietly open the bathroom door.
Blake flashes me a sleepy smile. His eyes are half-mast like he’s still waking up, dark hair sticking up in a million directions, the waves not knowing which way to point. The covers rest below his hip bone and the sight of his V wakes me right up. Who needs coffee when you have Blake’s body to jolt you awake?
“And here I was thinking you hated cuddling.” He shoots me a devilish smile. “Telling me to use a pillow and then invading my side of the bed like that.”
“I mean how could I resist? Your rock-hard muscles are so much comfier than a pillow.”
