Page 43 of Love Again

Luke’s voice rises in the dark above the sound of the sleet on the windows and the wind and the thunder. “You know, it’s only nine thirty at night or something. We’re going to be up at four in the morning.”

“What’s your point?”

“Let’s sleep in till six.”

Even though it’s early, I’m still tired. Having to negotiate Luke, my heart, the distance between us, intimate conversation, and acting like nothing really matters and knowing everything does, has worn me out.

The truth is, being with him today has been really nice. As usual, with a situation that would make most men uncomfortable, he rolls with it.

Luke is good with change. He’s good with dealing with a lot of variables. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with him.

The way he feels on top of me, inside me, is another reason.

Within ten minutes or so, his deep, even breaths can be heard only between the gusts of wind. Part of me wants to sleep immediately. He’s right—we’ll both probably wake up around four in the morning and will have to wait another four hours to meet with the fire marshal. I don’t function well with little sleep.

Claire, however, can function fine with six hours of interrupted sleep a night. I’m not like her. I need a good eight-to-nine hours. I always have. I actually really love to sleep and have an excellent relationship with my pillow.

But there’s another part of me that doesn’t want to go to sleep.

I’m afraid I’m going to dream about him. If a box with letters under my bed is a catalyst for dreams, I can’t imagine what would happen when he’s lying at the foot of my bed.

I ponder these thoughts as wild and as crazy as the wind outside. I don’t know how long it takes, but I do eventually go to sleep.

I have no idea what time it is when I wake up. It’s still dark. The storm has turned back to rain, but the thunder and lightning seem to be gone. I notice all this in stages as I come out of a deep, deep sleep and realize my face is freezing cold, my nose is like an ice cube, and I’m shivering under the blanket.

“Hey. Hey,” I whisper and then realize I don’t know why I’m whispering. “Luke, wake up.”

I wrap the blanket around me and scoot to the edge of the bed.

The blanket on the floor moves. I can hear it, and the little light spilling from the window makes it clear that Luke is standing and grabbing blankets. All of them.

“We need to consolidate,” he says. “This isn’t going to work.” He moves quickly. “Lie back down. Get under the covers.”

The weight of the folded blanket with a second and then a third settles across my chest and stomach. It’s ridiculous how cold it is in here. I can see my breath against the pale light. Finally, the bedspread lands on top of me, and he tucks it in. Tight. He’s got nothing on except some briefs that are probably still damp, and he scoots in next to me.

The mattress settles as he slides in under the heavy blankets.

“We are combat cuddling,” he says, and I can hear him grit his teeth to keep them from chattering. “I bet it’s barely above freezing.”

“Are we going butt to butt?” My arms are shaking I’m so cold.

“Nut to butt,” he says, and as I roll to my side, I feel him spoon me from behind, and he pulls the top two blankets over our heads as well.

For some reason, he’s not shivering, even though he was on the floor. He slips an arm around my waist and lays his hand on the mattress. The weight of his arm presses against my side, and his quads are tucked against the back of my hamstrings.

Scooting a little lower, he repositions himself so that our knees bend in unison. My toes are like ice.

This is what soldiers do, I think, as I slowly start to warm up. Luke is already asleep again, his breath even and long, breathing into the back of my neck, and then he shifts a little. That, or he’s faking.

In that little shift, he slides his hand to my hip and leaves it there. My body relaxes. I think he’s asleep.

I don’t have to be vigilant. I don’t have to worry. We’re here together, under the blankets, and it’s warm and he’s breathing and we’re alive. The storm is outside, and I fall back asleep.

I would even welcome a dream.

΅

I’m not sure what wakes me, if it’s the fan and the light from the bathroom when they clicked on together, or the red beating pulse of the digital clock flashing 88:88, or the fact that the man sleeping behind me has a huge erection pressing into my ass.