Worlds Apart

Chapter Twenty Seven

I slipped in quietly through the door, disposable coffee cups held precariously against my chest as I stuffed the room key into my jean pocket.

Careful to close the door as cautiously as possible, I was able to take a cup per hand, which was helpful. It reduced the fear of spilling scalding hot coffee all over my front. That would be just perfect considering I wouldn't be able to keep myself from screeching aloud, and I'd gone through such pains to keep quiet.

The reason I'd been padding around lightly came into my sight soon enough.

Cam was almost in the exact position that I'd left him about two hours before. Flat on his back with the blankets twisted around his waist, chest bare and moving steadily up and down in a comforting fashion, just a hint of yellowing where the bruising had been vicious only a week before. He'd healed pretty well after all. The only thing that had changed now was that he'd flung an arm over his eyes in his sleep to hide him the light seeping in through the curtains.

It was almost identical to the position he'd been in when I'd left around noon, unable to linger in bed even after taking a shower as he slept like a rock. Now it was nearing two o'clock, and it was starting to get a little ridiculous. If he didn't get up pretty soon he'd just be waking up to do the gig.

So it was about time he got an alarm clock.

With the coffees held carefully in my two hands, I scrambled up onto the bed, hoping I wasn't about to stain the white sheets more than we already had. All I received in response was a groan from the bed as well as one from the body that could have passed for a cadaver. The loud bed didn't give me a pause – it had been even louder than that last night. However the reluctant groan pulled from his sleeping body had me rolling my eyes.

Grinning slightly, I swung my leg over his hip and straddled him naturally, looking down at him a little softer than I'd intended.

He shifted just fractionally, but obviously didn't wake up at the pressure. Although I felt a slight twitch beneath me and that had me smiling broadly now as I eyed him up, letting my gaze following along the lean line of his arm. Apparently a part of him was always willing to wake up for me.

"C'mon Cameron, can't sleep all the day away," I sung lightly as I leaned forwards, shoving the protective arm away from his face in order to press the warm cup against his cheek. His eyes didn't open, but he flinched away, giving another groan. I just followed with the pressure of the cup, singing happily, "Wake me up before you go-go. Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo. Wake me up before you go-go. I don't want to miss it when you hit that high."

It was only at my relentless singing that Cam finally, and very reluctantly, peered up at me with one eye. The look he gave me said that it was criminal to be cheerful at the moment. In a hoarse sleep coated voice that made me feel nothing short of gooey, he pointed out, "I'm going to start kicking you out if you're going to be this happy in the mornings."

I found myself grinning merrily at his grumpiness as I held the coffee in front of his face. "It's not the morning anymore, darling. It's like two in the bloody afternoon. Congrats, you've reached Keith Richards levels."

"You should throw me a fucking party," he mumbled, finally taking the coffee that I kept pestering him with against his cheek.

With a laugh, I took a sip of my own watching as he let his head fall back into the pillows and watched as he winced at the sound. He pressed one hand to his temples even as the other one rested with coffee still in hand against the bed. "You really have reached Keith Richards levels if you're already planning another piss-up," I observed, taking my first sip of the coffee as I sat back comfortably.