Chapter 70: Morning Thought
- RAYA -
When I wake, I’m still in Dex’s arms. It seems we have cuddled the remainder of the night, and no more nightmares managed to find me. And one strange thought is stuck in my head: did Nana just force us together? I try to shake free of it, because that doesn’t make any sense.
Dex rubs my back before his hand comes up behind my neck and runs through my hair. Goosebumps raise in brilliant fashion down my arms before quickly descending all the way to my toes, and I lift my chin to find that he is just as handsome in the morning. No crazy hair sticking in all directions. No eyelids swollen from sleep. No surprise. I already decided he is perfect. In fact, I think he actually looks better... if that’s possible.
"You had a nightmare," he says gently.
"Yes. I’m sorry."
I pull out of his embrace so that we can talk with some space between us, because being this close is making my body do all kinds of things that I’m not ready for. I can only imagine how he feels. With the way he is looking at me, it seems that he has waited to gobble me up with that sexy growl until the morning. And I’m very sure I would let him.
"I had a nightmare, too," he admits.
"Oh no, really?" I sit up, groaning a little as I do because I forgot to take the medication last night even after reminding myself. "What was yours about?"
He pushes himself up in bed, too, mirroring me. A distant look overtakes him as he thinks back to the dream. "It was strange. It’s hard to explain." He smiles weakly, and that’s how I know it must have something to do with his mother.
"I wonder why we both had nightmares this time. I haven’t had a nightmare about the accident until now. It’s almost like dreams of you were a shield, but now it broke through."
"But you didn’t have any more nightmares after the first one, right?"
After he pulled me into his arms and kissed my face? God, no. That was so sweet. I was too lost in that place between dreams and reality to truly appreciate what was happening—I only soaked up the comfort of it in the moment. It felt so natural.
"No," I say softly, and I watch as a small smile starts spreading over his face. He knows exactly how comforting he is.
"Good."
Dex drops his head back against the pillow and stares at the ceiling before stretching with a little feral growl that pulls on some central, hidden part of me again. Why do his noises do that? His noises, his voice, his touch, the peppered kisses on my face... I wonder what actually sleeping with him in reality would do if just these small things have such a profound effect.
"I have to get ready for work," he says, grabbing his phone to check the time.
"Oh, right. I’ll just..." I slowly get up to leave, but he jumps out of bed faster and shields me from the door.
"You don’t have to leave. Why don’t you try to get more sleep? It’s still very early."
When I can’t think of any reason to argue, because I’m not ready to go back to the guest house alone yet, he lightly pinches my chin and then turns to start gathering clothes. He winks before walking into the bathroom, and I hear the shower turn on.
How am I supposed to fall back asleep now? Dex is undressing at this very moment... right there in the very room that we had dream sex in!
I happy groan before lying back in bed, and the bliss of this unexpected morning blooms large around me. I’m in Dex Mobius’ bed. I slept in his arms. He kissed me on the face.
Moria Rose jumps on the bed and does her little hungry morning meow, so I giggle and find her food bowl to fill it as requested. Sometime after lying back down to listen to her chomping and the sound of the water running in the bathroom, I actually do fall asleep. The next time I wake, I’m disappointed to find the bathroom door open and the room empty.
Hobbling into the bathroom, I notice my crazy hair in the mirror and chuckle to myself as I try to arrange it. The stitches make it hard, but finally I get it smoothed out right. When I look down, my toothbrush and a few other items are arranged on the sink. He must have gone into the guest house to retrieve them so I wouldn’t have to.
After I get cleaned up and walk back out to the bedroom, I realize there is a shirt folded on the edge of the bed with a torn note lying on top. Moira is lying next to it, ’loafing’ with her paws curled under herself in a way that resembles a bread loaf.
"As requested," is all the note says.
When I unfold the shirt, I laugh out loud when it turns out to be the grey holey one he wore to the hospital one day.
"I don’t think I requested it," I shake my head with a smile, but I put it on anyway. "Wow, it does feel luxurious," I mumble, noticing the difference in how soft the fabric is. "No wonder he wears them." And it smells like him.
Finally I make my way back downstairs, drawn by hunger and wearing Dex’s shirt. I don’t want to go back to the guest house yet. It still makes me nervous, but I suppose I could just go quickly, grab some things, and come back.
The blinds have been raised to let the soft morning light in. It’s still too early for it to dance along the pool water the way I have admired it doing during the day, but there is a beautiful haze to the air instead. Birds are chirping outside. The flowers and trees are swaying slightly, and I sigh, soaking it all in.
The sense of peace is short-lived when a door unexpectedly opens behind me. I gasp and turn toward the sound, eyes going wide in fright. Who could be here? Is this seriously happening again?
Dex walks in holding a bag, and I let out a deep breath of relief.
"Did I scare you?" His brows pinch as he sets the bag down on the kitchen island. "I’m sorry."
"You don’t have to apologize," I say, waving my hand dismissively, but it’s going to take a few moments for my breath and heart to recover.
He starts taking things out of the bag that smell like food. I wander over, drawn by hunger, and climb up on one of the stools next to him.
"I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got a few things. I figured you might be tired of strawberry croissants by now."
"I could never be tired of strawberry croissants," I tell him, and he looks at me with one dimple appearing behind his beard. Then his gaze flicks down to the shirt I’m wearing and lingers there.
"It looks good on you."
"Thank you," I giggle and look down at the oversized shirt, too. "I get why you love them now. It feels really nice on."
He rakes a hand over his face and beard before his gaze returns to me. "Can I tell you something?"
"What?"
He takes a step closer and reaches for the shirt sleeve, touching it lightly before his hand lowers to my arm. He remains staring at the shirt for a moment while I am free to admire every detail of his face so closely, wondering what he’s thinking and also acutely aware of his touch. When his eyes finally lift to mine again, there is that depth I am familiar with along with a distinct smolder that makes my belly flutter.
"I was on my way to work," he admits, gaze dropping to my lips. "But I couldn’t get one thought out of my head, and I knew I was going to have a very hard time concentrating all day if I didn’t turn around."
I wet my lips, feeling a rush of warmth at the intimate depth of his voice.
"What thought?"
His eyebrows angle up in a way that makes him look adorably guilty. I’m certain that if he is about to confess something awful to me right now, with that expression the forgiveness is already his.
Before I have time to overthink it, I reach up and pull him down into a kiss. But I should have thought about it. I should have definitely thought about it, because kissing Dex is no simple thing.
His arm curls around me, drawing me closer and those perfect lips of his tease mine open and steal my breath. He nibbles and tugs on my lower lip, causing a wild flame to instantly roar to life—from that flutter in my belly all the way to the flutter in my chest. And it’s not even a full kiss yet... until it is.
We’ve kissed so many times in dreams. I thought I knew exactly how this would feel, but it’s a thousand times more intense—maybe because of the novelty and familiarity that are able to coexist. All I know is his lips and his tongue and the way his passion and desire bloom into my mouth—demanding and hungry and gentle all at once—make everything else cease to matter.
Thoughts scatter. Inhibitions wilt and die. I am eager to proceed with being burned alive by these flames as long as his mouth continues to possess me like this. I want to be his. I’ve never wanted anything more.
We are clinging to each other, hands desperate and wanting, and when I feel him finally start to come to his senses and slow, his hands are cupping my face and my legs have curled around his waist, locking behind his back. He tries to stop kissing me, but he keeps returning—nibbling and licking and tugging at my lips with small breathy chuckles in between. When he finally ceases, his forehead drops against mine and we both pant against each other.
"You guessed it," he chuckles softly and kisses me one last time, "that was the thought."
