Page 74 of XOXO, Summer
My body’s trembling subsides as I sink against the mattress. His weight pushes me deeper into the memory foam, and I love it. The full weight of the energy we’ve lost together is exhilarating. But holding him soothes my racing heart, and I kiss the top of his head.
When breathing becomes too hard to sustain, I rub his back, and whisper, “Daniel?”
He rolls to the side without me asking, our bodies falling apart, making me miss him already. But there’s no space between us when he brings me to him. Kissing my forehead, he whispers, “I love you.”
No laughter follows. This time, it’s not a joke.
Shifting my head to see him, I wait until he finally takes a breath and looks over. There are no visible nerves to pinpoint, only a strong fear of rejection tainting the warmth of his usually welcoming browns. “You love me?” I wince. Why’d I ask that?
He smiles. “I do. I love you, Summer.”
I was always warned not to proclaim declarations too loudly because you might jinx them. But I wish the entire city of New York could hear him and my response. “I love you, Daniel. So much.”
We meet in the middle and kiss, sealing our shared feelings. But when I lie back, still not recovered from the activity, he asks, “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking how this feels like a fairy tale. What are you thinking?”
“How long will it be before I’m inside you again.” I want to nudge him for that, but honestly, same.
CHAPTER 24
SUMMER
“Why don’t you have anything on your nightstands?” The surfaces are too clean, sterile even. I’m lying on my side facing the window, and my eyes are drawn away from the incredible view to the nightstand beside me. Knowing there is a matching one on his side has me wondering where Daniel Sutton’s personality is found in this apartment. “You don’t even have lamps on them. You have wall sconces.”
“The horrors,” he deadpans. I almost thought he was asleep, but apparently, his humor is up and active. “I do.” His tone is defensive as his arm tightens over me, dragging me into his fold. Though I love lying in bed wrapped in his arms, he’s a hot box, so I’ve been slowly gravitating away to put some air between us. “There’s a phone charger and my phone.”
Sadly, I think he finds that funny.
I roll to my other side. I’ll never understand what I did right in this life to be the one lying next to him. “There are no cookie crumbs, no journal, no random books that you’ve started but haven’t finished, no framed photos, no jewelryyou forgot to take off before getting into bed. There’s not even a glass of water, let alone a fancy French bottle of water, in your case. No lotion, and?—”
“I get it. You don’t approve of my clutter-free apartment.”
“It’s beautiful, but your heart and soul live somewhere else.”
He kisses my shoulder twice before closing his eyes. “They’re right here. In my arms.” Snuggling against me, I watch the exhale that tells me sleep is upon him.
He needs rest. So do I, but I worry about the life he’s living in the city. I shouldn’t. He’s a grown man and has lived like this his whole life. But in Mountain Laurel Cove, he fits right in with the stuff that’s around, nosing through yearbooks on my shelf, and studying the detailed woodworking of the kitchen cabinets. He’s never said a thing about clutter or looked bothered.
Caressing his cheek, I ask, “Do you feel at home here?”
He opens his eyes with a lazy smile forming. Tapping my heart, he says, “I feel at home here.” It’s a good answer. Charming, but I’m not convinced it’s the truth.
His phone buzzes like it has, off and on, for the past few hours. It woke me up earlier, and I’ve been awake ever since. Maybe it’s a sign to let this go. I’m still curious, though. “You’re not even tempted to check it?”
“Not really. I don’t care what they say about me in the media. But if you want to look, you can.”
“What if it’s your agent again?”
“More reason not to check. I’m firing him in the morning.” He sighs, but then leans forward and kisses my forehead. “Tonight, I want to sleep.”
Raising my free hand in surrender, I say, “Hint taken.”
I close my eyes, willing my turbocharged brain to relax and let me sleep. After a torturously long time of forcing myeyelids to stay closed, I pop open my eyes. “How are you going?—”
“You didn’t even last ten seconds.”
“Really? Felt like ten minutes.”
