She grinned at him from the pillow, shamelessly tumbled and messy and still completely naked. “You should be very proud of yourself, sir.”
He gave off a huff of amusement. “I am. But I hardly did it alone.”
“That’s true. I did pretty good myself.”
“You did better than pretty good. You were amazing.”
“We both were.”
They smiled at each other.
“Now don’t you even think about leaving right away,” she told him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down into the bed. “You deserve a little rest after all that effort. And it’s not like the night is over. Maybe we’ll feel up to a little more later.”
He raised his eyebrows, although he didn’t resist. He was happy to stretch out beside her. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but he wasn’t sure what she’d expected and hadn’t wanted to wear out his welcome. “You’ve got more faith in my powers of recovery than I do.”
“We’ll see.” She patted his chest. “But you haven’t let me down yet.”
He liked the way that sounded. He was smiling as he relaxed into sleep.
four
TAYLOR WOKE UP VERY sore and very thirsty.
After a minute of orienting herself to where and when she was, she jerked her head to the side to look at the other side of her bed.
Charles was still there. He was awake. Lying on his back and holding his phone up so he could read the screen.
“You’re here,” she croaked, startled by the hoarseness of her own voice.
He gave a slight jerk and lowered his phone. “Yes. Did you want me to be gone?”
“Of course not. I’m glad you’re here. I just figured you might have wanted to head home.”
“I woke up a couple of hours ago and thought about heading out, but you were asleep and I have to drive all the way back to Azalea. So it sounded like a better idea to sleep another hour or so. But I can leave any time you’d like me to.”
His face was so sober she couldn’t help but smile. “I just told you I didn’t want you to leave. You can stay as long as you want. It’s Sunday, and I’ve got nothing planned for today.”
“Good.” He nodded and adjusted so he was lying on his side, facing her. “As you know, I’ve never had casual sex before, so I’m not sure of all the correct etiquette and protocol.”
He was so earnest. Utterly sincere. She’d never met anyone like him. “Well, I think people have different expectations in that regard. But generally the rules are to be kind and respectful to the other person and otherwise do what feels right to you.”
“Okay.” His mouth twitched slightly. “How do you feel this morning?”
“I feel pretty good. A little sore but not in a bad way. I could drink about a gallon of water, but otherwise I’m in good shape.” She sat up and finally glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even eight in the morning yet. “What about you?”
“Same. I helped myself to water from your refrigerator. I hope that’s okay.”
For the first time, she noticed he had a half-drunk bottle of water on the nightstand on his side. “That’s just fine, although you could have gotten one for me while you were up.”
His mouth twitched again—although he was visibly trying to keep it still—and he nodded toward the nightstand on her side.
She sucked in a breath as she looked over and saw a bottle of water waiting for her. “Oh, you’re like a dream guy,” she said, grabbing it, twisting off the top, and chugging down the water.
“I got you a bottle of water. Surely that doesn’t put me at dream-guy status.”
“It’s pretty close right now,” she said between gulps. When she’d had enough, she went to use the bathroom and wash her face. Her hair was very messy, and she didn’t look particularly sexy or attractive in the oversized T-shirt she’d put on after sex last night. But she didn’t really care at the moment. She finished washing up and returned to bed, where Charles had gone back to reading his phone.
To his credit, he put it down as soon as she returned. “I can leave whenever you’re ready for me to.”
“No hurry. I’m just going to take it easy this morning until I’m supposed to go over to have brunch with my dad and his wife at eleven.”
“Do you get along with them pretty well?”
“Yeah. Not bad at all. My parents divorced ages ago. I don’t know if you remember?” When his silent nod proved he did, she continued, “It was really rough, but it happened long enough ago for things to have settled out fine by now.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t remember when your parents got divorced?”
“I don’t know. We were just kids, and it’s not like we were good friends. I’m surprised it made an impression on you.”
“It did. Remember that day I found you stupidly walking across that wall?”
“It wasn’t stupid.”
“It definitely was stupid. You could have broken your neck.”
She sighed, her gut roiling just slightly. “I know. I was... I don’t know... upset. And I guess I wanted to do something big. Something that felt significant.”
“Yeah. I get that. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t break your neck.” He gave her a small, adorable smile.
She smiled back. “Me too.”
“Anyway, I would have remembered your parents divorcing anyway because it seemed to change you.”
She frowned slightly, not annoyed by him but surprised by the comment. “Did it?”
“Yes. You’d always been friendly and cheerful and fearless. Kind of... free. But afterward...” He trailed off, evidently too polite to complete the sentence.
She did it for him with a huff of dry amusement. “I stopped being cheerful and friendly? I guess maybe so. I’ve never actually thought of it, but maybe that was what catapulted me into being kind of bitter and antisocial.”
“You pretend to be bitter, but I’m not convinced you really are.”
“I don’t pretend anything.”
“Don’t you?” He looked curious more than defiant. “I’ve always thought you do. Like I said last night, you have close friendships that have lasted since childhood. You’re close to your family. You were more than generous with me last night when you had absolutely no reason to be so. It just doesn’t seem to me that you dislike people or want to push them away. You prefer a smaller circle, and it takes you longer to warm up. That doesn’t actually mean you’re antisocial.”
She wasn’t sure how she felt about his earnest assessment of her character. It made her want to squirm. Too deep. Too intimate. But she also kind of liked the sound of it.
She also liked the look of him. His dark blue eyes were mild, almost soft, and he looked deliciously rumpled, shirtless, and hair mussed from their carnal activities last night.
With a little scowl, she finally said, “I don’t know. Whatever. No need to make a big deal about it.”
“I wasn’t making a big deal. Was I?”
A giggle burst out of her. “I guess not. You’re the strangest man I’ve ever met.” Deciding it would be more comfortable to turn the tables on him, she asked, “How did you decide you wanted to write a novel?”