What’s that say about me?
I know I should get out of bed, get dressed, go home. But it’s so comfortable here among the sheets, among Dave’s manly scent. I feel safe here. I feel loved. Again, finally. If nothing else, I want to savor that feeling, that emotion. Lord knows I haven’t felt it enough.
I pull the covers up over my body, hiding my nakedness. Not because I’m afraid Dave will look—hell, he helped me undress, and we used to be in the same P.E. class, so he’s seen all there is to see. No, it isn’t the bare flesh I’m worried about at all, but rather what’s still hidden from view. Thinking of that kiss—and his arm around me, and his tenderness this morning, and the softness in his eyes when he looks at me—thinking of that has gotten me hard, despite my hangover, and the last thing I want him to see when he comes back into the bedroom is the front of my underwear tented over morning wood. He might get the wrong idea…