His voice was dipped low, a flash went through his eyes and his arms tightened again when he replied, “Yeah.”
“I don’t cuddle,” I told him.
His arms tightened again but this seemed reflexive before he muttered, “Right.”
“He cuddled.”
Another flash went through his eyes as his jaw hardened then he unclenched it to repeat a muttered, “Right.”
“You can manage that, you’re welcome here until you go back to the Grand Canyon State.”
One of his hands slid up my back, over my shoulder, up my neck to curl around the side of my head before he whispered, “I’ll take it, Sylvie.”
It was my turn to mutter, “Right,” and I did before I shifted off him.
I turned off my light.
Creed turned off his.
I pulled the sheet up to my waist, settled on my belly, head turned away from him, knee crooked. I didn’t know how he settled.
“I like morning sex,” I warned into the dark.
“Fuck me,” he muttered.
“That’s what I’m saying.”
I heard him chuckle.
Then my body tensed as I felt the tips of his fingers glide over my hip, my ass to my waist in a super soft touch before they moved away.
“’Night, partner,” he murmured.
“’Night, Creed,” I murmured back.
Five minutes later, Gun joined us, curling in the crook of my leg.
By the sounds he made, Creed fell asleep before me.
It took me a while.
Mostly because, over and over in my head, I heard his voice saying, call it and saw in my mind’s eye his hands curling around my headboard.
I adjusted minutely, reaching out to Gun and sifting my fingers through her thick, soft fur.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
She started purring.
I fell asleep.
* * * * *
Creed
“Fuck,” Creed heard her whisper.
He squeezed his eyes tight.