“He’ll go soft,” he whispered.
“You’re sure?” I whispered back.
“Yeah.”
I took in a breath, let it out and nodded.
“In the meantime, we keep doin’ what we’re doin’,” Chace went on.
I nodded again.
“Now, you gonna read or sleep?”
This meant, I assumed, Chace was tired. Then again, it was past his bedtime.
“Read,” I told him quietly and he grinned at me.
Then he bent his head and kissed me, one of his sweet, soft ones, open mouth, lazy stroke of the tongue. My toes curled, both my arms went around him and the fingers of both hands went into his hair.
When he ended the kiss, his lips didn’t leave mine and he murmured there, “Read.”
“Okay,” I murmured back.
He lifted up, kissed my nose and moved a hint away.
I rolled to my side of the bed and grabbed my Nook.
Chace’s light went off.
I turned on my Nook and read. An hour later, I turned it off, set it on my nightstand and turned out my light.
I barely settled into bed before I was hauled into and mostly under Chace with his arm at my waist.
“Done?” he mumbled sleepily.
“Yeah.”
“’Night, baby.”
“’Night, Chace.”
His arm gave me a squeeze.
I snuggled into him.
His weight settled into me.
I closed my eyes and went to sleep.
* * * * *
Ten oh seven at night, three days later
“Chace.”
“Fuck, baby.”
“Chace!”