Page 72 of Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love 3)
“No more bed and breakfasts for us,” Levi said, pulling my back against his chest, his knees tucked into mine.
I giggled. “At least not until we’re old and don’t care about sex anymore.”
“Bite your tongue. I will never be too old to care about sex with you. When I’m ninety, if you’re still around, I’ll be trying to get in your pants.”
> “Of course I’ll be around.” I snuggled back against him, trying not to let my feelings get ruffled by the comment. He’s teasing. It was a joke.
“Good.” He kissed my head once more and we fell asleep, our breathing synced like I wished our lives could be.
• • •
We woke up so late we missed breakfast, but I didn’t care. Waking up next to Levi was even more amazing than I thought it would be. He lay on his back with his arms around me, and I cuddled up against his side, one leg thrown over him, one palm on his stomach, my cheek pressed to his chest. I felt warm and peaceful. Happy. Loved.
“Probably better we don’t have to face anyone down there anyway,” he said.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “We wouldn’t even have to introduce ourselves. They all know our names because they heard us shouting them all night long.”
“Totally.” His hands stroked up and down my back. “And they’d be angry because they didn’t get any sleep.”
I burrowed in closer. “Let’s never leave. This is like a dream.”
“I don’t want to go back to real life yet either.”
“Maybe they’d let us stay all day.”
He sighed. “I wish I could.”
“Hey.” I picked up my head and looked at him. “We can have this feeling in real life, you know. There’s nothing magic about this room.”
“No? Felt like it.”
“No. The magic is you and me together, and we could have that anywhere.”
“You’re right, sorry. I’m being grumpy about everything I have to get done today. Come back.”
He tugged me back down, and I nestled against him again. “Why don’t you let me help you out today?” I asked. “I’d be happy to do something for you.”
“You sound like my mom.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Ew. That is not romantic.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean that you remind me of her, just that she’s always wanting to do things for me. She thinks I’m incompetent or something.”
I sat up again. “It’s not the same, Levi. I don’t want to do things for you—and maybe she doesn’t either—because I think you’re incapable of doing them yourself. I’m trying to help you. Accepting help from someone who cares about you doesn’t mean you couldn’t do it all yourself; it means that you’re willing to let someone share the burden who wants to.”
“I don’t want to burden you with anything, Jillian. It’s bad enough that I can only see you once a week. I’m not going to ask you to do my fucking laundry.”
I stared at him. “I don’t understand. Are you never going to let me into your regular, everyday life because you think I won’t find it romantic? I’m thirty-one years old, Levi. I get that life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Relationships aren’t always whiskey and sex. There are good times and bad. Beautiful things and ugly things. Rib eye steaks and fast food hamburgers. It’s not either, or. I don’t expect you to be perfect all the time.”
“Shhhh, hey, come here. Don’t get upset.” His tone contrite, he reached for me again, pulled me down. “I know what you’re saying. I promise I do. I just…” He squeezed my arm. “I just want this for a little longer, OK? I want it to be only us, whiskey and sex. Beautiful things. We said we’d take it slow, right?”
Immediately I felt bad for pushing. “I’m sorry.” I threw my leg over him again. “I know we said we should go slow. I just love you and want to be close.”
“Me too.” His voice went husky, his hand covered one breast, and his cock stirred beneath my inner thigh. “What do you think about getting close in the shower before we get dressed?”
I slipped a hand between his legs. “I’m all for it.”
• • •
