Spice, musk, sweat. Heat. T-shirt. Flesh. Tyrion Lannister?
Woke up in what is beginning to feel like a "normal" position, tucked up against Blake on my couch while he watches TV. He smiled down at me but kept watching as I try to get my bearings. I look towards the TV and notice something extraordinary: he has his legs stretched out and propped up on the coffee table, and there's a little, round, white/brown/tan lump of kitty lounging in the dip between his shins staring at us. At me. Smugly. Little shit.
I give her the finger and Blake starts laughing, which knocks her off his legs and jumbles me around a bit, in a way I don't mind at all. She regains her dignity quickly and stalks from the room. "You have made an enemy today, sir," I whisper.
"Pfff," he responds, looking over at her. "She loves me. We bonded. I'll beg for forgiveness and she'll be cuddled up against me in no time. She's just like her mommy." I jabbed my elbow into his gut, which he responded to a tad melodramatically, and climbed off him. That's when I noticed my hoodie was gone. I looked at my arms, then my chest, then looked at him with one raised eyebrow. He shrugged. "You looked like you were overheating."
"Bullshit." He smiled smugly and pretended to watch TV. "Besides my sleeve, what else did you check out?"
"Your boobs. But just briefly. Quick peek down your collar."
"And?"
"I approve? Oh, no, nothing else. Just the boobs and the ink."
"The arm ink."
That got his attention. "There's more?"
I smiled smugly and shrugged, and strolled into the kitchen to track down my dinner. Found the entire pizza, untouched, in a warm oven. That adorable man waited for me.
Jesus. I'm doomed.
YOU ARE READING
Narcolepsy (A Love Story)
RomanceI don't get to have feelings, good or bad, not if I want to function. • • • • • • • • • "Just tell people. They might surprise you." "They never surprise me. And they never look at me the same. It's a joke, or it's a weakness, or I'm a freak show."...
