The Suspect

chapter 18

I don't know how I managed to but I finally dragged Tatum to his bed. Laying him down, I notice the ends of his jeans are caked with mud, and his shirt sticks to him so tight, I can see his muscles through it.

"Hey," I gently nudge him but he doesn't comply, "Tatum, you need to get your clothes off before you sleep. God knows where you've been, come on wake up," I shake him a little harder and he stirs and peeks through his eyes.

Groaning, he somehow flings his upper body off the bed and shoots both his arms up like a baby.

Oh, great he wants me to do it.

"Mhjhsou...do it," he mumbles in his sleep and I go to unbutton his shirt.

I try not to think about the fact that I'm quite literally undressing him right now but my mind keeps gravitating towards it. Traitor. Finally reaching the last button, I undo it and peel it off of him.

My eyes widen at the glorious sight in front of me. Every inch of his body is sculpted as if cut like a diamond.

Don't go lower. Don't do it. You're stronger than this.

I let my eyes drop and I get a good look at his abs. Holy mother of god, does he have an 8 pack? Or a 10 pack? A sudden wave of heat shoots up my neck, and when I trail my eyes back up I see him smiling down at me.

Puffing out his chest, he grins wide, "You like?" he arches his eyebrows twice and I gently smack his shoulder.

"Oh shut it. If you're awake, do it yourself," as soon as the words leave my mouth he closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep.

Smartass.

With much effort, I get his shirt off and go to leave the room when he calls out to me.

"Pants!" he demands with a giggle and I pinch myself really hoping this isn't a dream.

Sighing, I turn back around, "I didn't know you were such a big baby. You know I quite like this side of you. Keep it around will ya?" I jest and see his head shake in a haze.

"Oh shut it," he throws my words back at me and I suppress a laugh.

His sudden change of mood surprises me and I'm not quite sure of what to do. It's not like I can forget what happened a few moments ago, nor can he. I decide to just go with it, giving he probably can't tell his right from his left right now.

I hover over him and bend down—again not trying to think about the compromising position we are in—and unbuckle his belt and button.

"Ass up," I instruct and he thrusts up, his crotch perfectly in line with my face and I turn my head to the side, pulling his jeans off him. Underneath, he's wearing loose boxer briefs, and damn if that sight doesn't make me want to look away. But I do, of course.

After peeling them off his leg, I wonder if he sleeps almost naked and nudge him again.

"Is this how you sleep?"

I look at him, his eyes still closed as he shakes his head, "Pajama pants. Top. Dresser," he keeps mumbling over and over and I wonder what the hell he drank before coming to make him like this.

I actually just quite possibly may have a liking for this side of him. I slow down, taking it all in just for a few more moments before he resets into bitch mode again.

I open the dresser and take out deep red-checkered, thin fleece pajama pants, and walk to him. Again, acting like the big three-year-old baby he is, he shakes his legs like a dog, the action demanding me to put them on. I scrunch one leg of the pants and grabbing his leg I put it through, doing the same to the other side until it reaches his butt. I'm about to tell him to get his ass up again, when he does it on his own accord, thrusting right into my face again.