“It was awesome.”
“Dessert now or later?”
“Later. I thought we could watch a movie if you’d like?”
Her face lit up. “I would love that!”
“Great. Go pick something on Netflix. I’ll clean up.”
“But—”
“Nope. You cooked. I’ll clean.”
She laid a hand on my arm. “Okay.”
She hurried away. I wondered how it was possible that I felt the heat of her touch all the way through my shirt. I shook my head at my stupid thoughts.
It had to be the wine.
The wine kept fucking with my head all night. Add in the exhaustion, and I was practically delirious. It was the only explanation I could come up with for the events of the evening.
Fee chose a suspenseful thriller movie, then kept hiding behind a pillow and gasping in shock at things that seemed so obvious to me. I kept laughing, finding her antics amusing.
Finally, I gave up and patted the seat next to me. “Come here, scaredy-cat.”
She scooted over, sitting close.
“You know, we can change channels. Watch something else.”
“No,” she insisted. “I want to see what happens to the guy.”
“In order to do that, you need to stop covering your face,” I informed her, draining my wine and leaning back. I lifted my arm and tugged her close. She nestled into my side, her head resting against my shoulder. It felt oddly right for her to be there—the same way it had for her to be in my kitchen. I gave up trying to figure it out and rested my cheek against her hair. I could smell her fragrance again—light and airy. It suited her. Not overpowering but soft.
She jumped, and I rubbed her arm. “It’s fine, Fee. It’s a movie.”
“I know.”
The movie ended, and I switched channels to an older film I thought she’d like. I had seen it several times and enjoyed it. No one died, and there was nothing scary—only some bad acting and a thin plot. She relaxed a little, her body leaning closer as she calmed. The death grip she had on the pillow eased, and her hands became still. My fingers found the ends of her hair, and I rubbed the silky strands between my thumb and index finger.
“Your hair is so different. You know, when I saw you in the bar… At first glance, I thought you were a cougar trying to pick me up.”
She giggled, the sound feminine and different to my ears.
“I know it’s been a long time since that dinner when we met,” I mused, “but I’m usually better at remembering people. I should have known it was you.”
“It’s the hair,” she said, tousling the strands with her fingers. “And I don’t wear much makeup now. I never liked it.”
“Is this, ah, natural?” I asked. “I remember you being blond.”
“The blond was fake. This is real. Scott hated it—he said it made me look old and therefore made him look bad. We argued when I let the blond fade and the real colors show through. My mom went white young, and so did I.”
“I like it,” I murmured. “It’s unique—like you.”
“Thanks,” she said, then sighed. “Don’t feel bad about not remembering me, Halton. Back then, it was my job to be forgettable. Scott wanted a presence—the veneer of a happy marriage. I was to look good and smile, but not overshadow him in any way.”
A ripple of anger tore through me. I pressed my lips against her crown and squeezed her shoulder.
“You, Fee, are never forgettable. I may not have recognized you instantly, but once I did, all I recalled was how incredible I thought you were, and that you—in every single way, without even trying—overshadowed that asshole. You were simple perfection sitting beside a jerk.”
She tilted up her head. Her green eyes glimmered in the low light.
“Thank you, Halton. That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
I kissed her head again, resting my cheek on it, unable to say anything else.
We watched the movie in silence, and soon, Fee felt heavier beside me. Not long after, she was asleep. Her breathing became deep and even, and soon, she started emitting the strangest sounds I had ever heard. It was a sort of clicking-purr noise. I had heard it in the library, but up close, it was even odder. It reminded me of something, but I couldn’t place it. It amused me though, but I stifled my laugh and turned down the volume so she wouldn’t be startled awake. I leaned back my head. I would sit here with her for a bit then wake her and go to bed. Maybe my body was tired enough I would get a few hours rest tonight.
It would be a nice change.
Something tickled my nose and I lifted my hand to wipe at it, but it was gone. There was an odd sound close to my face, and my body felt warm and constricted as if I were being held down. I cracked an eye open to figure it out and was shocked to see I was lying down on the sofa.
And tucked beside me, wrapped in my arms, fast asleep, was Fee. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, but she was there, and this was real. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, I checked my watch. It was almost seven in the morning. I had somehow, by some miracle, slept for over nine hours. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
But how? The last thing I remembered was Fee falling asleep next to me. I had shut my eyes, and I must have fallen asleep myself. Somehow, we ended up twisting and turning until we were lying down and had slept the night away. The TV was still playing, the sound low, the table lamp on, and the room dim. I looked down, surprised to see how tightly entwined we were. Our bodies aligned, my leg wrapped around hers, her toes resting on my calf. Our chests were melded together. Her head was tucked into my neck, and I held a fistful of her hair in my hand. My cock was awake too, pressed into her hip, hoping to get closer. I chose to ignore that fact, concentrating on the more important issue at hand.
I had slept with her all night, not waking once. It was the longest I had slept in months, maybe years. I felt rested, rejuvenated. I felt like a million bucks.
Holy fuck.
Fee’s eyes flew open, and I realized I had spoken out loud and woken her up. She met my gaze, the vivid green shocked.
“What-what are you doing?”
“Ah—sleeping?”
“Why are you in my bed?”
“I’m not. Neither of us is in a bed. We fell asleep on the sofa.”
“Together?” she squeaked. “All night?”
“All night.” I stretched, my body feeling the effects of the too-soft sofa. Unfortunately, by doing so, I tugged her closer and she felt exactly how awake I was. All of me.
She scrambled up, pushing away. Her hair was a mess, no doubt from my fingers being buried in it all night. There were creases on her face from my sweater, and she looked panicked. I held out my hands.
“Relax, Fee. Nothing happened. We fell asleep.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”
I pulled myself up into a sitting position. “Understand what? There’s nothing to be upset about. It was totally innocent.”
Mostly. The cock pressing against the zipper of my pants had another word for it.
“I never sleep through the night,” she whispered, meeting my eyes. “Not for years. I’m usually up, pacing a lot—or tossing and turning.”