Page 65 of Beautiful Deceit
"So, you need anything else?" I ask, before grabbing my water and heading back to my bedroom space.
His eyes twinkle before he squints and says, "Nah, thanks. I'm good." It feels kind of awkward standing about, so I turn to my dresser and grab a short cotton nightgown from the top drawer. I leave him to go into the bathroom and slide it on.
When I step out, Beau has already laid down. I walk over and turn the light off. His eyes are closed, and his lips are barely parted. I'm pretty sure he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. I hope sleep comes as easily for me.
I lay down in my bed and try to fall back asleep, but my thoughts circle. I'm happy he's here, but still I worry about my feelings for him. I've never experienced the level of jealousy I did tonight. I sigh, knowing the answers won't come to me now. I turn my attention to the contentedness I feel just sitting on the sofa next to him, the way his lips feel when he gives me those gentle kisses on my temple.
I fall asleep to these thoughts.
I wakeup unusually warm and kick my legs, looking for a cool piece of fabric, but my heel connects with a warm leg instead. I freeze. Beau came back last night. I made him sleep on the couch. I look over to where he should be and see the blanket piled on one end of the cushions. His pants and shirt are in a heap on the floor. I turn my head slowly to see him lying beside me and wonder how he was able to climb into bed without waking me.
I think back to all the times Rita would come in my room in the mornings and how vulnerable it made me feel.
My mind wanders back to the first few times we met. I think the only reason I even let him get close to me was because I didn’t think he was actually interested in me. How did it get here, I wonder.
The sun is high shining through the numerous windows. I move to my side, folding my arms to pillow my head, so I can easily look up at Beau. He is on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes, the other hand rests low on his belly. There is a light stubble on his chin and jaw that's a few shades darker than the light hair on his head. His breathing is slow and steady, and I let my eyes linger on every inch I can see in a way that I wouldn't be comfortable doing if he was awake. Even at rest his body is a work of art with each muscle clearly defined as if flexing. I curl my hand under my chin and watch him sleep. It feels deeply intimate seeing him completely unguarded. I can't believe he snuck in my bed. Did he think I was being harsh asking him to sleep on the couch, or was he just uncomfortable? The reason doesn't matter though, because I'm happy this is where he ended up.
The events of the last few weeks roll through my mind, and I realize how badly I want to make things work. I feel a connection with Beau that borders on fantasy. I'm not sure if I am ready to have someone in my life, but something about lying here with Beau makes me feel certain. My heart rate picks up when I let myself dwell on the depth of my feelings for him. I think I'm falling in love with him. I close my eyes and pray that I'm strong enough to handle whatever is happening between us.
My panic attack last night worries me. I've been able to keep them at bay for almost a year. My stress levels have tripled over the last few months, between work, the flowers and now Beau, I've been wound a little tight. I need to simplify some things. I continue to think while watching him sleep.
Starting with where he and I stand. Maybe if I have a clear definition I'll be able to relax a bit, but I'm so clueless when it comes to relationships. I'm not sure if it's too early to have the talk about our status. I do know it's way too early to drop the three little words I haven't said to anyone since Rita, and never in the way I would mean saying them to him.
I've beenawake for nearly a half an hour when Beau's hand moves down his belly. He cups himself and groans. His hand doesn't linger but lets go, pulling back and turning to his side. He arches his back, stretching as he wakes. He buries his face in the pillow. He rolls onto his belly, both arms go up under his head, and his leg kicks out a bit when he brings his knee up. The comforter barely covers the top of his butt. If I pulled it down a few inches, I'd get to see his delectable buns.
My fingers tug just the tiniest bit, and I'm rewarded when the blanket slides down and stops at the top of his thighs. I lift up my head and lay it on the middle of his back. My chin is cradled by the muscles of his back, I look up and see a small crescent shaped scar beneath his shoulder blade. It is almost impossible for me not to trace it with my finger nail.
I lick my lips looking down at the rest of him. If I was braver, I'd like nothing more than to lick the birthmark that rests right below the dimples of his lower back.
Deciding I've ogled him long enough, I get out of bed slowly. I quietly drape the sheet back over him to alleviate some of my temptation.
I start the coffee maker and grab a book I started a few days ago. Seeing the lack of polish on my nails, I grab a bottle of polish and paint my nails while enjoying my first cup of coffee while he sleeps.
I'm on my second cup when Beau makes a low growling moan and flips his face to the side. His arm fans down to the side as he feels the empty expanse of bed next to him.
He lifts on his elbows and asks, "Sammy?" His voice deliciously gruff. He looks over his shoulder and finds me curled up on the sofa with my book.
"Morning," I say in a low husky voice that has little to do with lack of use.
He grins and drops back down to the mattress, "How much trouble am I in for sneaking into your bed?" His question comes out muffled with half his face being smashed to the pillow. I don't even bother answering. If I told the truth it would only encourage him.
Beau finally turns over, the sheet tents at his groin. I blush and look away.
"What time is it baby?" He drawls. I secretly swoon before looking at the clock to answer.
"Just after ten."
He grumbles, "How long have you been awake, and why didn't you wake me up?"
"I got more sleep than you did. I thought you needed it." I answer distractedly as I watch his hand move under the covers.
"You have any plans today?" He asks and sits forward, tossing his legs over the side of the bed. My mouth drys when he stands, and I see the impressive bulge in the front of his tight, black shorts. "Sweets," he says, reminding me he asked a question.
"Uh, huh?" He chuckles and saunters from my bed, taking his time covering the space between us.
His body is sleek, and he moves with a grace that seems choreographed. I drop the book I was engrossed in just moments before. My neck cranes up the closer he gets.
Standing before me he bends down and runs his hand through my long waves, brushing them back from my face.
