It was very easy to follow his directions, and I decided not to question why that was. I changed into my pajamas, which were a small pair of boy shorts and a white tank top, and went into his bedroom. The remote was on his bed, displayed obviously in the center. Which side was I supposed to sit on?
Zeke exited the bathroom, shirtless and in dark pajama pants. Once again, I couldn’t seem to help but stare at just how buff he was. My cheeks heated up. I’d been up against him on the dance floor. What was wrong with me now that I’d suddenly reverted to being utterly stunned at the sight of him shirtless?
He sat down on the left side and patted the right. Both of us sat on top of his comforter. Did he just want me to put the TV on? “I can totally go back to my room. This is your private time.”
“Layla. I told you it was fine, so it’s fine. End of story.” He handed me the remote. “Whatever you want to watch, put it on.”
I flipped through streaming services until I landed on Star Trek. It was a secret I didn’t often discuss, but I was absolutely a huge science fiction fan. One of my nannies had shared her love of it with me when I was about nine years old. I’d been hooked ever since.
“Picard or Kirk?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
I grinned. “Could be Janeway or Sisko, right? Or Archer.”
He shook his head. “I’ll ask it again. Picard or Kirk?”
“Picard was the captain who hooked me, and I have come to love Kirk.”
Zeke smirked at me. “Good answer.”
I put it on. I guessed we’d start with episode one on the Next Generation. “Encounter at Farpoint” was a famous one. I knew it well and even though it was totally bizarre to be in Zeke’s bed watching it, there was a familiarity to it that soon lulled me into forgetting about the oddness and just loving the moment. At the very least, I’d never forget this.
Chapter Thirteen
We watched three episodes and had started on the fourth when I fell asleep. I didn’t remember doing that or even know I was about to. One second, I was wide awake, the next thing I knew, I was being gently scooted over so Zeke could cover me with the blanket. I roused enough to realize what was happening.
“Sorry.” I struggled to sit up. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Stop. Go back to sleep. You’re fine.”
That didn’t make sense. “In your bed…”
“Yes, back to sleep.” The room was dark, and I was warm. He told me it was okay, and so it must be. Zeke never did anything he didn’t want to do. He’d kick me out if he wanted me to go. I really hoped I didn’t snore. That was the last thing I could think about, because dreaming was just such a nice place to go.
It was cold, and that brought me back at some point from the cushion of happiness where I had been cocooned. But there was warmth nearby, like a beacon, and I rolled toward it snuggling back down.
I woke up when the sun came through the window, hitting me in the eyes. It was morning. That much I knew. I had to wake up and do…something. Morning meant getting out of bed.
Wrenching my eyes open, I was suddenly very confused. Where was I? It took half a second to come back to me. I’d fallen asleep in Zeke’s bed, and what was more was that I was half sprawled on him. My arm was across his chest and my head sort of pressed into his side, or it had been before I lifted it.
He was on his back, one arm under my body, the other above his head slightly touching the back of the bed. His eyes were closed. In sleep, Zeke looked the most relaxed I’d ever seen him. He had incredibly long eyelashes, longer than my own, and I coveted them.
Zeke was a quiet sleeper. I couldn’t hear his intakes and exhales of breath, even as I watched his chest move and could feel it under my hand. I should let go of him, immediately. He’d let me stay because I’d fallen asleep, and here I was, grasping on to him like a lifeline in sleep. I’d totally invaded his space.
I let go of him and rolled over to where I should have been on my side of the bed. He made a sound and turned on his side, his arm swinging over me before he tugged me against him, this time his nose in my hair.
I lay there not moving. Well…that had just happened.
I’d tried to give him back his space, and he hadn’t wanted to let go. I supposed I could force the issue, wrench myself away and leave the bed. He’d probably prefer it when he woke up and saw how we were. Sure, we’d had two instances of him kissing—and once biting me—together. But it was always like it hadn’t happened afterwards, and it wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk about it.
It was just that I didn’t know what to say. How did you address the subject? Hey, remember when you bit my ear? I was suddenly more turned on than I’d ever been, and then you acted like it didn’t happen…
Plus, now there was this moment. I’d never been held, that I could remember. Certainly not by…
He sucked in a long breath and let go of me, rolling onto his back. I quickly shut my eyes. Yes, I would pretend to be asleep. Then I could spare us having to talk about this when we were already so good at acting like nothing happened when clearly things did.
“Sorry.” His voice sounded sort of rougher than it usually did. It was an intimate moment. The kind where I would now know he woke up sounding like that in the morning. “You don’t have to pretend to sleep. I know you’re up. That little snore you do when you’re sleeping? It’s a sure-fire tell.”
I rolled over, opening my eyes. “I don’t snore.”
“You do. But it’s not bad, I kind of like it, actually. Not a bad sound, just a constant reminder you’re in the room.” He sat up all the way, and the blanket fell off his waist. Didn’t he get cold in here? My room hadn’t been like this, but it was as though he kept this room like it was a refrigerator.
“I’m sorry if I kept you up.” Both Hope and Bridget snored. It wouldn’t surprise me if I did, too.
“You didn’t.” He looked me over for a long second, long enough that my cheeks heated up from the way he appraised me. I might look like hell. It was morning, and I hadn’t looked in a mirror yet. My entire appearance could be a disaster.
I sat up, deciding to act like I didn’t care. He reached over, pushing my hair out of my eyes. “Layla, you know that I don’t do serious. I’ve made that clear enough I think, but let me be explicit just in case. I don’t do relationships or dating. What we’re doing out there is pretend. What may or may not be going on here between us, it won’t ever be anything serious.”
“We’re lying here in your bed, having done nothing to earn this morning after speech, and you want to talk about how you’ll never have feelings for me? Fine. I ran out on my wedding. I don’t think I’m a pillar of relationship strength either.”
Zeke squeezed my cheek in his palm. “Well, I wouldn’t say that we did nothing. You have a mark on your ear from me, and I’m not usually a biter, but you inspired me.” He winked at me. “Just as long as you understand this up front. I don’t worry about it usually. The women I see…”
I held up my hand, my stomach turning slightly. “Don’t tell me about your other women, or I’m going to worry that I have to get treated for a disease for having lain here.”