Dangerously Low

Right, now hold on before you judge me!

I know we’ve done more scandalous things than lying horizontally beside each other on the bed, but… but we’ve just had sex. We had a reason to be lying next to each other. I know we weren't going to have any sex tonight, because he doesn't have a game tomorrow. So… so what was going to be tonight’s reason? 

And the air was already awkward between us.

“Shit,” I muttered, biting into my thumb as I paced the room. 

I was freaking out. I didn't know why, but I was freaking out! I stopped suddenly, inhaling. 

“Calm your tits, Siri. You're both adults, and can sleep right next to each other. It doesn't have to be awkward or intimate. It doesn't have to be anything!” 

I nodded after my pep talk, going to shower. 

I was in the living room, watching the TV, smacking on what we got when the door opened. My head turned just in time to see him step in. He looked exhausted, but still hot. His hair was messy, falling into his forehead, and his shirt was glued to his skin with sweat. 

“So I–”

He walked past me without a word, without a single glance my way, and I froze, my head still facing the door. Slowly, I turned my head and watched him enter the bathroom, his shirt already off, his back tense, and so wide.

“Right,” I muttered as I looked back at the TV, but I wasn't seeing anything. 

I heard the shower turn on, and I refused to picture him naked there. After about twenty minutes, he stepped into the living room, and I sucked in a sharp breath when my eyes landed on him. 

His hair was wet and messy, dripping water on his face. His chest was bare, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He wore black sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips, doing nothing to hide that monster sleeping on his thigh. 

I swallowed as I kept staring at him. He sat next to me without looking my way, picking up his iPad. His scent slammed into me, thicker, and I inhaled it without shame. 

I kept staring at him, the sounds from the TV and his iPad filling the silence between us. 

“Are you going to keep staring at me?” he asked without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Yes.” 

He said nothing and went on with whatever he was watching, his expression blank, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. 

“Whatcha watching?” I asked just to fill the silence that was stretching too thin.

“Footage of Vancouver's team's past games,” he answered, his voice once again giving nothing away.

I nodded. “Studying the enemy before you march into the battlefield?”

His lips twitched. Barely. “Something like that.”

The silence filled the space again, and I kept looking at him. 

I don't know how many times I've asked this, but… but was this man really interested in me? He looked like someone who could date a model or an actress, and he… he wanted me? He looked too…

“Beautiful,” I muttered out loud. My eyes went wide. 

He stiffened, and then very slowly, he turned to me. For the first time since he came back, his eyes met mine. 

“What?” he whispered, his voice too thick. 

My face flared with heat. “N-nothing.” I stood up with shaky legs. “I’m going to sleep.” 

I raced into the room, feeling his eyes burn into my back. 

Seriously, Siri? Seriously? Are you losing your damn mind? 

I crawled into bed, pulled the thick duvet up to my chin, and stared at the ceiling. I stayed that way until I heard his soft footsteps on the carpet as he entered the room. 

My eyes followed him from the moment he appeared in the doorway until he came to his side of the bed. And since I've become a fool who blurts out whatever when I see him, my mouth moved. 

“Stay on your side of the bed.” He paused in trying to get into the bed, raising his eyes to mine. “No… no cuddling! Keep your hands to yourself.” 

He stayed still, staring at me, and once again, his expression was unreadable. He moved, getting under the sheets, muttering, “Got it.” 

He turned off the lights, and the room was plunged into darkness. The bed was king-sized, so his staying on his side put so much distance between us. But… but that was what I wanted. It was. It really was. 

I stayed still, listening to his breath, feeling the little warmth of his body I could feel, and slowly I fell asleep. 

When I woke up, I was on something hard.

Huh? How come? The bed was so soft, so how did it become hard? The hard surface was also moving slightly. Up and down, it went. And it was so warm. And it smelled good. I didn't want to move. The scent reminded me of Jackson.

Jackson? Huh? Huhhhh??? 

My eyes snapped open, but I didn't move. I was too scared to do so.

I heard a heartbeat under my chest, and it hit me: I was on Jackson. Not just my head, but half of my body. One of my legs was thrown over his, lodged in the middle where I felt that hard bulge. And it was really hard. 

I was on Jackson! 

How… How did I get here? I could slowly make an escape without waking him up. He wouldn't know this happened. He would wake and know nothing.

“Morning,” that deep voice said from above my head, and I stiffened. 

That voice does not sound sleepy at all. I raised my head and those grey eyes met mine. 

I pulled away like I was burned, my face unbearably hot. And my face wasn't the only thing hot. I looked anywhere but at him, my heart racing.

“M-morning,” I muttered. 

“I stayed on my side of the bed,” he said, sounding almost… satisfied.

I dared a glance at him. He was lying down on his back, his hands folded behind his head, his biceps bulging out. His hair was sticking out in every direction, his eyes still hooded from sleep.

“I can see that,” I said softly, too ashamed and hot to snap. 

He moved suddenly, getting close to me in a blink. He grabbed both my hands with one hand while the other grabbed my waist. He pushed me down until my back was on the bed, holding my hands above my head. And then he got on top of me, placing his full weight on me.