“Come here.” Tossing back my covers, I make room for her, rolling to the opposite side of the bed so she can slide in. Except she doesn’t just slide in—she dives like her life depends on it, like she’s being chased by a demon.
She disappears from sight, yanking the sheets above her head. “Can you close your curtains?”
“Sure.”
I climb out of bed and go to the window, hauling the blinds closed, pulling them tight so as to leave no gap. Climb back up onto the bed and pull my roommate close, embracing her like you would a child who’s hurt themselves.
“Hey. Hey, there’s nothing to worry about.” My hand runs down her smooth, silky hair. “Hey, look at me.”
Eliza shakes her head.
No.
She buries her face deeper into my chest, faintly whimpering when the house shakes again from another thunder crash.
Fuck.
Now I wish it would stop raining, although I don’t hate that she came to me for comfort.
Poor thing.
I try again to coax her so she’ll look at me. “Eliza. Babe, look at me.”
It’s the word ‘babe’ that does the trick; I didn’t use it intentionally, but it works nonetheless, Eliza tipping her face up to look at me, lashes fluttering as she forces them open.
She looks adorably scared.
I kiss the tip of her nose. “Don’t be scared.”
Her arms, which she has wrapped around me, give a squeeze. She’s thanking me without saying the words, thanking me for the comfort I’m providing her—I can see it in her gaze as she peers up at me.
I kiss the tip of her nose again, enjoying the action. It feels intimate and cute.
She’s cute.
Her bare legs shift beneath the covers, rubbing against mine inadvertently—I know she’s not doing it on purpose, but I wouldn’t be a warm-blooded male if I didn’t notice how silky smooth they are. She must have shaved them recently, and I appreciate the effort.
Eliza is feminine, delicate, and dainty.
“I am scared. I can’t help it.”
“Have you always hated storms?”
“Yes, from the time I was little. I really try to be brave, but I’m horrible at it.” Her eyes squeeze shut again when the room lights up through the curtains.
“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid.”
“I would have climbed into bed with Lilly if I was still living at the other house, or Kaylee if Lilly was at her boyfriend’s house.” She sniffs. “I hate being alone when it’s storming outside.”
There’s that word again.
Hate.
Packs a lot of punch and meaning.
I move my hands to her back, and she lets me. Begin rubbing her spine, fingers pressing into the pressure points, and discover a few spots where her muscles are in knots. I work through them. Kneading. Finally feel her tensed-up body soften a bit. She’s finally letting herself rest at ease.
My palms flatten as they graze her back, trailing south in the direction of her tailbone. Press into her hips, for those need attention, too, my thumbs digging as gently as I can.
“That feels so good,” she groans into my chest, face buried once again, but not in the same terrified way it was a few minutes ago.
“So you don’t want me to stop?”
“Please don’t.”
I massage her back. Her arms.
“Why don’t you lie on your stomach? It will be easier,” I instruct gently, wanting her to calm down and knowing a back rub will probably do the trick.
Always works for me when I’m tense, can’t see why it wouldn’t work for her. If only the damn lightning would stop.
My roommate rolls to her side then eases onto her stomach, and I can’t see her clearly in the dark room, but I imagine her arse cheeks are sticking out of her underwear looking like two peaches, scrumptious as can be. I resist the urge to put my hands there, instead setting them in the center of her back and pressing gently, thumbs and fingers massaging.
Eliza’s head rests on the pillow, a tiny, breathless exhale escaping her lips as we settle into the task.
“That feels good. Almost makes me forget the house is about to be blown over.”
“The house isn’t about to be blown over.” I chuckle. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Don’t steal my lines,” she grumbles, shifting so her face presses into the pillow.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I lie with a smile.
Outside, another streak of light brightens the sky, illuminating my entire bedroom as if someone has flipped on a lamp.
Eliza flinches.
I lean forward and kiss the back of her head like an idiot. “You’re safe.”
“Did you just kiss my hair?” She giggles.
“Did I?”
“I think you must have.”
Who kisses the back of someone’s head? Their hair, and not their face or skin?
“Shush now, stop interrupting.”
“I’m not interrupting, the weather is.”
Facts.
We stay like this for quite some time. My hands are huge and my stamina is incredible, so I don’t get tired of this position or the massage very quickly. In fact, it goes on for so long that I actually wonder if Eliza has fallen asleep—she hasn’t uttered a peep.