Once again, I’m sitting back on my knees and covering my erection. Elle’s eager and pulls me forward until I align with her. The words, asking if she’s sure, are sitting on the tip of my tongue, but they never have a chance to be said.
* * *
My arm is dead. Each time I try to wiggle my fingers, they tingle, and I beg the painful sensation to stop. I look at the beautiful woman holding my arm in place and can’t believe we’re waking up next to each other. I’m afraid to roll onto my side out of fear I’ll wake Elle. As much as I love her, she’s a grouch in the morning. No man needs to deal with Elle James without a cup of coffee.
Long gone are my blankets, kicked off the bed in the middle of our night fueled with passion. Her hair covers her back, possibly providing very little warmth. I lift my head to assess the situation I’m in. I’m still naked, and another glance at Elle shows me she’s the same. Man, how’d I get so lucky?
After last night, everything has changed for us. The thought brings a smile to my face. Finally, we can be together. No more cat and mouse games. There won’t be any more hidden feelings, especially from me. I know how she feels now.
As much as I want my arm back, I don’t dare pull it out from under her head. Instead, I inch closer and place my arm over her stomach, nestling into her. For as long as I can remember, Elle’s used the same shampoo. She always smells like the sun, beach, and coconut. Even on the rainiest of days, she can walk into a room and change my outlook by the smell of her hair. I close my eyes, content and happy with what’s transpired between us.
My hand rests on her stomach, moving up and down with the rise and fall of her breathing. I’m tempted to wake her up, but I also want her to sleep. She needs it. The demons she’s been dealing with sometimes get the better of her and right now, Elle seems to be at peace. I put her there, finally showing her how I’ve felt and how good we can be together. The thought of us staying in bed all day brings a stupid cheesy smile to my face. Honestly, I can’t imagine spending my day any differently.
I pull myself closer, tucking my hand under her breast. She stirs, mumbles something unintelligible and relaxes against me. Right now, in this moment, it’s my very own slice of heaven, right here, holding the woman I’m in love with, the morning after. I’m not sure my day, week or month could get any better.
Of course, it can. Elle could come with me to New York. It would mean she’d have to take a quarter off because it’s too late to secure an internship, but I’d make it worth her while. I know it’s not right for her to stop her education in favor of my dream, but I’ll ask her anyway. I’ll put the offer out on the table with the promise of late night walks in Central Park, strolls down Fifth Avenue, and shared bags of roasted nuts. We can visit the Statue of Liberty, take the train to Philadelphia or become baseball fans and start going to games. The opportunities to develop our relationship away from the social scene in Los Angeles, are endless. Plus Elle would be closer to Peyton, and with all the wedding planning starting, Elle could be at Peyton’s beckon call. All Elle has to do is say yes.
“Just say yes,” I whisper against her shoulder. “We can make all our dreams come true together.”
Elle stirs, much to my surprise. I honestly expected her to sleep well past noon. She rolls over and into my arms, snuggling into the crook of my neck. I could get used to this. In fact, I think I already am. I mean, who wouldn’t? Elle is the woman of my dreams, and here she is, lying in my arms.
“Hmm.” Elle’s fingers are in my hair, softly weaving in and out.
My leg moves between hers, tangling us together. “Yeah.” I sigh, contently and happily.
Elle’s body goes rigid. She pushes against my chest until her arms are in the fully locked position. “What’re you doing in my bed?”
The smile I’ve had since I woke up slowly starts to fade. Does she not remember last night? “We’re in my bed.”
Her head slowly turns, and her eyes dart back and forth wildly. She sits up quickly, her hand instantly going to her head. “Oh, God.”
Well, yes you did call out to him a few times last night. I fight the urge to say those words. I sit up and reach for her, but she recoils. Her negative response hits me square in the chest. My mouth goes dry, yet I have a serious need to swallow the pooling saliva in my mouth.
“Shit.”
“Elle?” She doesn’t look at me. Instead, she scrambles off the bed and tries to dress quickly. I say her name again, but she shakes her head.
“Nothing happened, right? I mean we’re naked, but it doesn’t mean we slept together. Please tell me we didn’t sleep together.”
I can’t look at her. This can’t be happening. My ears must be deceiving me because she’s asking me to tell her we didn’t have sex when we did. Why is she doing this?
“Ben?” Her voice is full of panic.
I shake my head, almost as if it’s an automatic response. “We kissed,” I tell her. “But I think we must’ve passed out. I don’t really remember.” Except I remember it all. Everything. Every word you said to me. The lie falls easily from my mouth. Her face morphs into something I can only describe as relief. She’s happy nothing happened between us and the realization guts me in the stomach. I turn my attention toward the wall, my bed, my bare legs, anywhere but at her. Blindly, I reach behind me and bring my pillow forward to cover myself up. I can’t bring myself to look at her, mostly out of fear I might start crying. She doesn’t need to see me like this.
“I’m going to go,” she says. All I can do is nod because any words I say will make me sound like I have a vise grip squeezing the life out of my family jewels. I’m not sure how long I sit like this. It’s long after my front room door closes, long after my back starts aching, and well past the point of a broken heart.
7
Elle
The soap lathers against my skin, covering me in white suds. I scrub, almost until my skin is raw, needing the pain to numb the thoughts running through my mind. In all the years Ben and I have known each other, and with all the stupid things we have done over those years, I have never woken up naked in his bed. Right now, I can’t explain it. Each time I close my eyes, I try to recall what happened last night. I know I was drinking. The wine was going down far too easily, but I’m drawing a blank.
Deep down, I know in my heart Ben would never take advantage of me, but it doesn’t explain how I woke up in his arms. Sure, we’ve slept in the same bed before, but there’s always been a pillow between us. I’ve always stayed on my side, and he his. And we’ve always kept our clothes on.
“What have I done?” Regretfully, there isn’t anyone to give me the answers I need, and I’m not confident in Ben’s answer. He tells me nothing happened, other than we kissed. I touch my lips, wishing I could recall the moment my best friend and I crossed the line. Did I initiate the kiss? If so, I hope it wasn’t some sloppy kiss overrun by drool. Ben deserves better, and if I was a drunken idiot, I hope I didn’t disappoint him.
However, I’ve disappointed myself. This is exactly what Quinn said, I need help, and admitting I have a problem is the first step, but do I? I mean, I had some fun at my best friend’s birthday party, who’s going to fault me