No Interruptions

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

I woke up feeling as if my tongue was three times to large for my mouth, sticking to the roof of my dry mouth and a thick, nasty taste coating my cheeks. I made a face with my eyes closed, grimacing, and tried to roll onto my back—unsuccessfully. I then discovered this was because there was a large, hot body next to me. 

I cracked my eyes open against the blinding sunlight, turning my stiff neck to see Niall behind me, his hair in twenty different directions, face paint smeared in a grey mess, splayed out on his back. He was knocked out, no sounds falling from his lips as he snoozed on, and he looked kind of cute. He looked trashed, but still cute.

That’s when I noticed that his chest was bare, and the sheets were barely covering his naked lower half. My eyes widened and I felt all the blood drain from my face, and then the ache in my lower half set in. The sheets suddenly seemed less than accommodating for my naked body, and I scooted away from his embrace, pulling the sheets with me to cover my exposed breasts and stomach. I was naked, I was sore, and it was Niall. 

My breaths came quick, but it was for a reason entirely different than what I expected. I actually didn’t feel very much sadness or panic or anything, but I felt guilty. I felt like I’d betrayed him, I felt like I owed it to him to let him be his own person without the sex, but I let it happen. We’d fucked, and now everything we’d worked toward was slowly drifting away.

I abruptly sat up, putting my sticky hot face in my hands, my back muscles straining. I felt that heavenly ache of my overworked muscles that only Niall could give, my pelvis area obviously having been pushed to it’s limits, my thighs sore. I sighed, trying to think of what I was supposed to do, dreading when he woke up.

I didn’t have much time to worry over it though, because I felt a hand on my back, warm and large and calloused, and I didn’t even jump. I more like melted into the familiar touch, welcoming it, a stretch in my chest indicating that no, I wasn’t going to pull away. No way in hell.

It was quiet for a moment until he opened his mouth, and I heard him try to accommodate for his cotton mouth as I had, yawning loudly before speaking. When he did, the rasp and depth of his voice went straight through me, tingling all the way from my head to my toes, but especially at my chest. “What’s wrong, baby? You okay?” He asked, and I let out a shaky breath, fisting his black sheets in my hands.

His fingers bumped over the notches in my spine, and I breathed in deeply before answering. “Are we okay?” I almost whispered, my eyes roving around his blue room, eyes landing on the guitar in the far corner, his hand stilling on my back. I tried to keep my breathing even, but it was hard when I expected my best friend to sigh deeply, tell me that he was a little disappointed, and then I’d be heart broken and forced to live with this for the rest of my life.

"You’re kidding right?" He asked, and I squeezed my eyes shut, a new feeling taking over my chest. It was hard to breathe and I was panicking now, hating myself for it. I shrugged just a little, and then he was sitting up behind me.

I expected him to do anything but what he did.

He bracketed a hand around my hip, leaning forward to thump his head on my shoulder blade, his hot breath tickling my skin. “Charley…you do realize that I’m not letting you leave this bed ever again, right?” He asked, and my breath hitched before I turned halfway around, his face appearing over the curve of my shoulder, his sleepy blue eyes dark and deep like they always were in the morning.

"What?" I asked, and his eyebrows drew together, his chin hooking over my shoulder, his face right by mine. "What do you mean, ‘what?’ Did you expect me to like, kick you out?" He asked, and I swallowed thickly, the feeling of his skin on mine suddenly too much to lose. I looked down at the sheet covering his legs, shrugging just a little again. He sighed, and then pressed his soft lips to my skin, nuzzling my neck.