seemed.
I lifted my forearm from my eyes and glanced around, squinting until I spotted him a second later, my eyes widening and letting in a painful amount of light.
He had pulled the cushions from the love seat and wedged them as close to the couch as possible. The coffee table was sitting at an angle to allow him enough room. He lay there on the floor, a good eighteen inches below me but right at my side.
And clutching the blanket at my side was the hand that had likely held onto mine all night.
I looked at it with something akin to shock.
Never in a million years would I have expected such tenderness.
I blinked away the tears welling in my eyes and dropped my arm to my side, testing my theory.
As soon as my hand was once again within reach, he reached out and threaded his fingers through mine, never stirring from his slumber.
My chest tightened in one quick spasm and a tear escaped the corner of my eye, rolling hotly past my temple and into my hair. Just one, though.
A single traitorous tear that threatened to erode the foundation of my well-placed walls.
After a while, I disentangled myself and silently rose from the couch, careful not to wake him. I splashed cool water on my face in the bathroom, wincing when I saw the mascara ring around my eyes. Raccoon was not a good look for me.
And Spencer had seen it, shit.
Thankfully, it was easily remedied with a makeup remover wipe and a mental reminder that my injuries were a good enough excuse for not looking my best. Satisfied that I wouldn’t scare the shit out of my guest, I trudged down the hall to the kitchen, needing coffee.
Soon after, the pot was brewing and I set about making breakfast, starving. Spencer would be too. Neither of us had eaten in a while.
I was halfway through with the meal prep when Spencer yawned from his spot on the cushions and stretched his lean muscular arms above his head. He sat up and turned toward me with a sleepy expression. “Do I smell coffee, chuckles?”
He’d just woken up, so I let the nickname slide. “Yes sir, you sure do.” I nodded to the counter beside where I was pouring the last of the breakfast ingredients into a casserole dish. “I even threw together some homemade vanilla creamer, since I know that’s what you like. It’s in that mason jar.”
He replaced the cushions and folded the small blanket he’d nabbed from the back of the love seat. I had the things everywhere. My mother insisted that they made the apartment feel homey.
“You didn’t have to do that. I could have taken it black.”
I waved him off, placing the casserole dish in the oven and setting the timer. “No big deal. It’s just a little condensed milk, 2%, and vanilla. Oh, and I threw in a vanilla bean for extra flavor. Just be sure to shake it well before you use it.” I’d had my back to him as I spoke.
When I turned I realized he was just standing there watching me with the most peculiar expression.
I thought again about my raccoon eyes, wondering if I’d missed a smudge or something. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shrugged once and the moment was broken. “I didn’t realize I was looking at you any particular way. Sorry. I’m still half asleep.”
I was a breath away from calling bullshit but bit it back. After all he’d done for me that weekend, I wasn’t in a position to challenge him.
But there was something about that look...
I started cleaning up my mess, not able to bear the clutter but also wanting a distraction. Despite the odd look, he was damn sexy with messy hair and drowsy eyes. It was hard not to stare.
He was unbelievably gorgeous.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” He said from behind me, sliding a mug of coffee onto the counter in front of me.
I’d been so busy with breakfast that I hadn’t poured myself any. I nodded gratefully and turned, staring into my cup as I took a sip. “Thank you.”
Under normal circumstances, I wasn’t fit to talk to for about an hour after I woke
I lifted my forearm from my eyes and glanced around, squinting until I spotted him a second later, my eyes widening and letting in a painful amount of light.
He had pulled the cushions from the love seat and wedged them as close to the couch as possible. The coffee table was sitting at an angle to allow him enough room. He lay there on the floor, a good eighteen inches below me but right at my side.
And clutching the blanket at my side was the hand that had likely held onto mine all night.
I looked at it with something akin to shock.
Never in a million years would I have expected such tenderness.
I blinked away the tears welling in my eyes and dropped my arm to my side, testing my theory.
As soon as my hand was once again within reach, he reached out and threaded his fingers through mine, never stirring from his slumber.
My chest tightened in one quick spasm and a tear escaped the corner of my eye, rolling hotly past my temple and into my hair. Just one, though.
A single traitorous tear that threatened to erode the foundation of my well-placed walls.
After a while, I disentangled myself and silently rose from the couch, careful not to wake him. I splashed cool water on my face in the bathroom, wincing when I saw the mascara ring around my eyes. Raccoon was not a good look for me.
And Spencer had seen it, shit.
Thankfully, it was easily remedied with a makeup remover wipe and a mental reminder that my injuries were a good enough excuse for not looking my best. Satisfied that I wouldn’t scare the shit out of my guest, I trudged down the hall to the kitchen, needing coffee.
Soon after, the pot was brewing and I set about making breakfast, starving. Spencer would be too. Neither of us had eaten in a while.
I was halfway through with the meal prep when Spencer yawned from his spot on the cushions and stretched his lean muscular arms above his head. He sat up and turned toward me with a sleepy expression. “Do I smell coffee, chuckles?”
He’d just woken up, so I let the nickname slide. “Yes sir, you sure do.” I nodded to the counter beside where I was pouring the last of the breakfast ingredients into a casserole dish. “I even threw together some homemade vanilla creamer, since I know that’s what you like. It’s in that mason jar.”
He replaced the cushions and folded the small blanket he’d nabbed from the back of the love seat. I had the things everywhere. My mother insisted that they made the apartment feel homey.
“You didn’t have to do that. I could have taken it black.”
I waved him off, placing the casserole dish in the oven and setting the timer. “No big deal. It’s just a little condensed milk, 2%, and vanilla. Oh, and I threw in a vanilla bean for extra flavor. Just be sure to shake it well before you use it.” I’d had my back to him as I spoke.
When I turned I realized he was just standing there watching me with the most peculiar expression.
I thought again about my raccoon eyes, wondering if I’d missed a smudge or something. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shrugged once and the moment was broken. “I didn’t realize I was looking at you any particular way. Sorry. I’m still half asleep.”
I was a breath away from calling bullshit but bit it back. After all he’d done for me that weekend, I wasn’t in a position to challenge him.
But there was something about that look...
I started cleaning up my mess, not able to bear the clutter but also wanting a distraction. Despite the odd look, he was damn sexy with messy hair and drowsy eyes. It was hard not to stare.
He was unbelievably gorgeous.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” He said from behind me, sliding a mug of coffee onto the counter in front of me.
I’d been so busy with breakfast that I hadn’t poured myself any. I nodded gratefully and turned, staring into my cup as I took a sip. “Thank you.”
Under normal circumstances, I wasn’t fit to talk to for about an hour after I woke
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