The suite is bathed in darkness when he turns out the lights, and I rush to climb into bed and under the covers. I have to fight back a moan at the softness of the mattress. I feel like I’m lying on a layer of clouds. My body sinks in, and suddenly I can feel the exhaustion of the day starting to set in. The bed dips beside me, and through the darkness, under the covers, his hand finds mine. Something so simple, but meaningful all the same. I’ve never slept in bed with anyone. Not even my mother. As a kid, I spent a lot of time in my room alone, hiding and being ignored.
As soon as his fingers link with mine, the anxiety of what we’re doing melts away. I can’t explain it, but I feel connected to him on a level I’ve never experienced before. He said that he needed me, but at this moment, I realize that I need him. I needed this moment to feel safe lying next to him.
“Owen?” I whisper into the darkness.
“Yeah?”
“How did you know what I needed?”
I feel the bed move as he turns to face me. “What do you mean? What did you need?”
I swallow hard. “You. I needed you, and I needed this,” I say, squeezing his hand.
I hear the breath leave his lungs before his whispered request, “Can I hold you?” he asks, his voice soft and gruff. “Nothing else, you can trust me.”
“I-I’ve never done this. I’ve never slept with anyone else,” I confess, giving him a piece of me that no one else has. What he doesn’t know is that my statement has a double meaning.
“Come here.” He doesn’t give me a chance to object as he moves in closer, and I find that I’m drawn to him, and I easily turn to give him my back, letting him wrap his arms around me. “Much better,” he says over a yawn.
As each minute passes, my body relaxes further into his. For the first time in my life, I feel safe and protected. Seen. I owe that to the man who slumbers peacefully behind me. He’s been asleep for a while, but his hold on me is tight. Even in his sleep, he’s keeping me close. It’s with that thought I finally let sleep claim me.* * *There have been many times in my life where I’ve woken up startled by the feeling that I’m being watched. This time, the feeling is different. I can feel his eyes on me, and his hand that rests on my hip. There is no panic or even regret for sleeping in his bed last night. It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in my entire life.
“Morning, beautiful,” he murmurs as my eyes flutter open.
“Hi,” I say, closing my eyes and burrowing into him.
His deep chuckle vibrates his chest. “Do you work today?”
“No. I’m off.”
“Good. I want to spend the day with you, and there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
That has me lifting my head to look at him. “Everything okay?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes. Everything is perfect. I’m going to order us some room service and grab a shower.”
“You don’t have to do that—”
“Stop right there,” he says before I can continue. “You’re mine for the day, Layla. Let me order us some food, and we can talk while we eat.”
“Okay.” I nod, because when you have a man like Owen who insists on spending the day with you, you don’t pass that up. It’s something I’ve quickly learned.
After a swift press of his lips to my forehead, he climbs out of bed. I watch as he calls to order room service, and again he orders way more food than the two of us could possibly eat before he disappears into the bathroom. My mind races with what he could want to talk about. Knowing Owen, it’s going to be something he feels like is good for me. Something else that has him helping me. I’m grateful for him, but at the same time, I know that I can’t lean on him too much. I can’t get used to him being there for me day in and day out. He’s only passing through. He’s going to be leaving soon, going back home to Nashville, and I’ll be here all on my own again.
Distance.
No matter how much I want to spend the day with him today, I just can’t. I’m already letting myself get attached to him. I’m getting used to having him to lean on, and I can’t do that. Jumping out of bed, I gather my things, and I’m almost to the door when the bathroom door opens.
“Layla.”
I freeze at the sound of my name. “Thank you for everything,” I say with my back toward him. “I’ve taken up enough of your time and generosity,” I say, hoping my voice sounds strong and confident when I feel anything but.