Poppy
Terror zips through me like a blade as I straddle him, shaking his chest, tapping his face…trying anything to get him to wake up. His body convulses beneath mine, heat rolling off him like he’s on fire. Every muscle in his body strains as he pleads for it to stop. Incoherent mumbles move his lips rapidly as he remains paralyzed. A choked scream tears from his throat, and I feel that agony in my bones. I’ve never seen anything like this before, and I don’t know what to do.
Then suddenly his green eyes open. Fury curls his mouth and fists, ready for a fight. Without warning, he flips me over, and he glares down at me for a second before launching himself away, as if I burned him.
Then shame creeps in slowly, morphing his entire expression and demeanor, making my heart ache. “Fuck.” He drags his hands over his face, scrubbing hard as if he can wipe the nightmare away. He looks up at the ceiling, then back at me. “Are you okay?”
My eyes widen. He was the one having a nightmare. “Am I okay?” I shake my head with a scoff. “Areyouokay? What was that?”
“Just a nightmare. They happen from time to time.” He pauses to look around the room, and for the first time, I do too.
It’s modern and masculine, with shades of gray throughout the room. Two walls are nothing but windows with a massive California king platform bed sitting on one side. A low lacquered black dresser sits directly across from the bed with an obnoxiously large TV mounted on the wall. Matching nightstands sit on either side of the bed with simple, abstract lamps. And in the corner is a single armchair.
The walls are bare. Unlike my own room, the floors and surfaces are free of clutter. Even the walls are bare of pictures or art.
It’s exactly and nothing like I imagined. Clean and controlled, but remarkably empty.
“How did I get in here?”
“You were already asleep when I came out of the bathroom. I-uh…I guess I should’ve found somewhere else to sleep, but I didn’t want to wander about your place without your permission, and…” Air huffs through my nose, my cheeks flaming. “I didn’t want to sleep alone. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs, then mumbles, “Guess it doesn’t work when I’m asleep.”
“What doesn’t work?”
“Nothing.” He stands from the bed, still dressed in last night’s clothes. He sniffs his shirt and makes a face, then pulls it over his head. I’m not sure why. He doesn’t smell bad, but I’m not complaining about the view. “Look, next time you try to wake me up, don’t get on me. Better yet, don’t touch me.”
“Next time.” I lift a teasing brow, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s quite presumptuous of you to assume there will be a next time.”
“Says the girl looking at me like I’m breakfast. I’m not a piece of meat, you know?” he teases back.
“I am not, and I didn’t do it for my entertainment. I tried calling your name to wake you. You didn’t budge, and it looked pretty bad. It freaked me out.”
He sits back on the bed, reaching for me. I resist when he pulls me to his lap, but the effort is wasted. Calloused hands cup each side of my face before brushing them over my hair, then dropping to grip my thighs.
My lips mash together as each of the tiny touches pebble my flesh. Electricity zips down my spine. Now is not the time to get turned on. Not when I’m in his lap, wearing his clothes, and his morning hard-on and pressing against me.
“I’m really sorry I freaked you out.” His thumbs brush back and forth over my skin, and I do everything I can to keep the moan from escaping. “After the fucked day you had yesterday, my shit is the last thing you needed to wake up to.”
“Want to talk about it? I know it may not seem like it since I’m always the one talking, but I’m a decent listener. Notice how I didn’t say great.” I joke, pretending like I’m not burning for him.
Maybe we should’ve just slept together the other night and scratched the itch.
“Definitely noticed,” he chuckles. “Thank you for the offer.”
“But?”
“But I’m not a fan of talking about stupid shit. I need you to promise if it happens again, you won’t touch me. You shouldn’t wake anyone from a nightmare like that. You could get hurt.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I might, and…” He drags a hand over his mouth. “I really don’t want to. Just don’t risk it, okay?”
“Not that I’m agreeing I’ll ever be in a position to see it again,” I hedge, as I finger the gold cross at his throat, “but if I am, what do I do?”
“Let me wake up on my own.”
“Okay. If I’m ever in that position again, I willtryto ignore it, but there’s no reason for it to happen. Last night was an unusual circumstance. I won’t ever be in that position again.”
