Not You It's Me (Boston Love #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,80
day, not to mention a full glass of scotch, and every muscle in my body is aching with pure emotional exhaustion. He’s been gone mere minutes when my eyes start to droop. It’s not long before I find myself wandering out of the main room, so tired I barely process the fact that I’m in Chase Freaking Croft’s humongous, gorgeously decorated bedroom.
I don’t bother turning on the lights as I move through the space, my eyes picking out the massive dresser even in the dark. I cross to it, slide open the top drawer, and grab a plain black t-shirt off the top stack. Even though he’s not here, there’s something intimate about undressing in Chase’s bedroom — I can almost feel his eyes on me as I slide the jeans over my hips, wincing as the dried blood from my glass-sliced kneecaps sticks to the fabric. I hurriedly pull off my shirt, unclasp my bra, and drop them to the floor in a pile, feeling exposed and vulnerable, standing nearly naked two feet from Chase’s massive bed.
His shirt is huge on my frame, draping to mid-thigh, and as soon as I slip it over my head, I’m hit with a wave of Chase — his clean, masculine scent invading all my senses.
For a moment I just stand there, breathing him in with my arms wrapped around myself, hugging the fabric to my chest and pretending he’s the one pulling me close in a comforting embrace.
It’s a poor substitute for the real thing.
With a regretful sigh, I slip into his private bathroom, barely able to meet my own eyes in the mirror as I brush my teeth with a spare toothbrush and wash my face. I pee, gulp down a glass of water from the tap, and douse the lights as I wander back into his bedroom, coming face to face with the massive bed frame which dominates the space. Black sheets, black headboard, black pillows — it’s a man’s bed, with no trace of frills or femininity. The sight of it makes me shiver so hard, I can’t imagine what climbing into it will do to me.
And I’m not about to find out.
Not tonight, at least.
Skirting around the bed, I grab the soft gray blanket folded across the end, cross to the glass balcony doors, and step out into the cool night. It’s freezing, this high up, but my breath doesn’t catch just because of the cold or the magnificent view.
Standing at the tallest point in the entire city, with all of Boston’s lights sprawled out below like a blanket of stars, and nothing above but clouds and open air… I’m untouchable. The very world is out of reach — reduced to smudges of color and motion so far below I can’t make out their shapes. Even the stars overhead seem dim and distant, obscured by the steady burn of Boston’s lights.
Nothing can reach me here — not Brett, not Ralph, not even my own fears or insecurities.
I’m safe.
Protected in a way I’ve never been, even back when I was a kid.
Thanks to Chase.
The thought makes my heart ache, so I push it away. Ignoring the cold, I turn from the railing and scan the deck, my eyes moving from the built-in pool and hot tub on the far side to the set of cushioned chaise lounges, sun umbrellas, and tall patio heat lamps. On the opposite side of the deck, there’s a semi-enclosed kitchen setup, with stainless countertops, a giant grill, and a mini-fridge. The whole spot is perfect for summer barbecues and lazy afternoons.
I could happily spend the rest of my days right here, on this deck in the sunshine with Chase, and never leave.
The thought is so alarming, I banish it to the darkest recesses of my mind.
I want to explore a bit more — hell, I want to strip to my skin and slide into the heated pool — but I’m too tired.
With a last, longing glance at the in-deck hot tub, I flip on the closest heat lamp, stretch out on the chaise to my left, and tuck the blanket close around my limbs, so I’m cocooned against the chilly spring air. I make a half-assed attempt to pick out some of my favorite constellations in the sky overhead, but soon find I lack the energy. Even the many, many worries in my head aren’t enough to keep me conscious.
My eyes slip closed and I’m asleep in less than two minutes.