Living In The Shallows (UK Crush #1)

Chapter Fifty-Three

I woke up around midday to a brightly lit room, needing desperately to go to the bathroom. I eased myself out from under his arm and found his bathroom, shutting the door to lessen the chance of waking him up. My mouth tasted like something had died in it, so I borrowed his toothbrush and toothpaste and brushed my teeth, hoping he wouldn't mind.

He hadn't even twitched. I climbed back into bed, facing him this time, and he put his arm around me and pulled me close without even opening his eyes, putting his leg over me and rubbing himself against me, the most intimate thing anyone had ever done to me. I wondered in passing how many women he'd done that to. I banished the thought from my brain and nestled into his arms, falling back asleep.

The next time I opened my eyes, he was resting his head on his hand, up on one elbow, staring at me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, covering my yawn with my fist.

"Watching you," he answered in a voice still gravelly with sleep.

"Why?" I asked, stretching and yawning again.

"Because you look like an angel when you're sleeping," he answered, smiling.

"Cheesy line, but I'll take it," I said, putting my arm around his neck and pulling him close for a kiss. He kissed me back, slowly, like we had all the time in the world. Which we finally, finally did.

"Oohh, is it finally time for the whole 'unsnapping the nightie business'?" I asked with a laugh.

He sat back, staring at me with narrowed eyes, trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile. "Are you making fun of me?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Me? Never." I made a shocked face. "I'd be too scared of being tickled to death."

He grinned wickedly and reached for me. I shrieked and tried to elude him, but his long arms easily grabbed me by the waist and lifted me, kicking, and pulled me close, pinning me between his legs, where he tickled me without mercy until I was gasping for breath.

"Are you going to make fun of me any more?" he asked me.

"No! I promise! I swear! Please, stop, Teddy," I laughed. "I'm going to pee! Ohmygod!"

He stopped, finally, holding my arms above my head and lying on top of me as I wiggled.

"Bastard," I gasped.

He raised his eyebrows. "What?" he asked. "Do we need revision, already?"

"No! No! I'm sorry!" I shouted immediately, laughing. "Jesus. How can you say you love me and torture me like this?"

"Okay, okay, I'm done, I'm done," he said as he let me up. I lunged at him, wrapping my arms around him and knocking him backward on the bed. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Keeping you busy so you can't do that again," I said, running my fingers through his hair and rubbing my body along the entire length of him.

"Oh, wow," he said, closing his eyes and pulling my face down so he could kiss me. "Good thinking. I don't even remember what I was doing twenty seconds ago." He pushed me off and scooted up so he could sit against the headboard. He motioned me over and lifted me onto his lap by the waist so I was facing him, one leg on either side, and he raised his knees so I was resting my back against them.

In all the times I'd imagined my first experience, I'd never imagined it like this. I'd always pictured it being nighttime, in some romantic, exotic place, a passion filled, crazy night of whispers and moonlight, tangled bedclothes and tortured embraces. Instead of which, I was in a big, friendly house in north London, with a twenty-three-year-old man with long brown hair and powder gray eyes who had once accidentally punched me in the jaw. We faced each other in the bright afternoon light, smiling. He was backlit by the diffused light from the window, and he almost looked like he had a halo. He'd just been tickling me, and I'd told him to stop, or I might pee. And there was a huge possibility that we might have to stop somewhere in the middle to laugh ourselves silly.