18
JESSA
I wake up with Anton’s arms wrapped around me.
It’s a heady sensation. To feel his warmth against my back, his breathing low and even, his presence like a wall between me and the world.
Slowly, I turn in his arms. I stare at his face, marveling at just how beautiful a man he is. His nose, his chin, his cheekbones. He’s perfectly symmetrical, perfectly proportioned.
When I get a little bolder, I reach up and trace my fingers over the ridge of his nose and then down to his lips.
His jawline sports a light layer of stubble now, but it suits him perfectly. My center tingles as I continue to stare at him. I went to sleep extremely frustrated last night, sexually and otherwise.
And apparently, it’s the kind of feeling that can pick up right where it left off.
We’re so close that I have to be careful not to move too much and wake him up. But I’m sorely tempted to slip my hand down between my legs so that I can touch myself while looking at him. The only thing that stops me is the thought of him waking up and catching me.
Then again, the thought of what he might do if he did is tempting in its own right.
I hear my phone vibrate on the ornate bedside table, and I disentangle myself from Anton and slip out of bed. I see a bunch of texts from Chris.
Hey, how’s it going?
Didn’t hear from you yesterday and I started to worry.
Text me when you get these, okay?
I just want to know that you’re okay.
I want to ignore them, if only to spend a little more time in bed with Anton. But I already feel bad about the way I’ve treated Chris. I don’t want to give him another reason to hate me.
So I grab my phone and slink into the bathroom so that I won’t disturb Anton. I give him a call and he picks up in next to no time.
“Hey! Are you okay?” he exclaims.
“Of course I am. Were you really that worried?”
“Can you blame me?” He sighs. “You do have a talent for getting into trouble lately.”
“I’m not going to argue with you there.”
“That’s a first,” he drawls. Then he adds, “How are you?” in a much more serious voice.
I think about last night. Maybe our little spat wasn’t quite “resolved” per se, and the words Anton said on the phone to Yulian still sting like barbs hooked in my skin. But it felt—and maybe I’m just crazy, maybe I’m just deluding myself and imagining this—but it felt like Anton was trying to say things with his body and his presence that he can’t bring himself to say with his words. That’s the thought that has me feeling all warm and fuzzy this morning.
Matter of fact, I can actually feel the warmth spread through me. It’s like a hug from the inside. I think about saying that to him, and I can almost imagine the look of disgust I’d get in return. The thought brings a burst of laughter to my lips.
“Guess things are going well then?” Chris says.
I realize how badly I want Chris’s blessing. My parents aren’t in the picture, so his opinion is the only one that really matters to me.
“He treats me well.”
“Men always do—at first.”
I sigh. “Do you have to be all doom and gloom?”
“I’m just looking out for you, Jess. In case you forgot, he’s still hitched to his ex, who—in case you also forgot—is a murderous bitch with violent jealousy issues.”