Loud Silence

Chapter Nine

It's dark. Taylor's arm weighs over my midsection, my thought recollecting that we had fallen asleep together. I shuffle to find a clock, trying not to make a noise. The digital clock on the nightstand glares back at me when I finally spot it.

2:06 am.

"Are you awake? Or are you going to sleepwalk?" I gasp when I hear his deep voice, not expecting that I have woken him. Turning my body towards him, I pull up beside his firm frame, wrapping my arms around his torso tightly.

"Thank you." My voice is hoarse, barely getting the words out. "I mean it."

He reaches his hand to caress my cheek with a slight chuckle that can be felt from his chest. "So you're dreaming, then."

Yes, I thought to myself. You are the glimpse of a dream within my nightmare.

"Are you hungry?" I nod against his chest, finally feeling the lack of food in my stomach.

He slips away from me, a feeling I dislike more than I want to admit, as a chill runs down my spine. I switch the lamp on, warm lighting illuminating the room, as I sit up from the bed, still wrapped in the white towel. Glancing over at me from the kitchenette, he chuckles to himself again.

Immediately, an overwhelming amount of self-consciousness washes over me. It is odd and completely out of character for me to sleep with him, or anyone, in such an intimate way, especially right after he had seen me naked. I haven't given it much thought, being that we were both asleep, but now that he's laughing about it, I wanted to dig a hole to hide in, angry and embarrassed.

"What is it with me and you in a towel? Strange, but I think I've found a unique place for it in my heart."

That's why he was laughing? Did he just say...? Wow, I'm unsure of what it means. His heart? Even after everything we've been through in a very short amount of time, I'm still unaware of what his true intentions are. I've been more focused on my next steps in finding Daisy that I have quite analyzed the details of my circumstance. Not wanting to further misinterpret his comment, I shake my head to dismiss the thought.

He pulls a container out from the white paper bag and pops it into the microwave. "I hope you like Italian, or I can always go get something else." I shake my head, not wanting to be alone, nor really caring what we are actually eating.

I watch him lean his back against the counter as he waits for the food to heat up, legs stretched out in front of him. Those legs are so long, muscular and strong. Abs peek through his snug shirt, marking symmetric indentations of his hard stomach, leading up to the chest that had accommodated so much of my tears, arms crossed over them, his T-shirt definitely holding tighter than the scrubs or dress shirt I've seen him in. Then there is that strong chest, broad, like his shoulders.

My eyes involuntarily move to his lips, thick and—grinning. Shit.

Our eyes meet. I'm glaring at him now, unable to turn away, trapped in his magnetizing green eyes. I haven't realized that I have been staring at him for that long, and he has been watching me the whole time. 

"Jasmine."

He starts heading towards me and my heart picks up the pace, frantically searching for an outlet, wanting to run but knowing that I am just as anxious for him to reach me.

The bed creaks with his added weight, his breath drawing closer, and the taste of him finally enters me. Each second that our lips touched are elongated. Enhanced. Magnified. Hot. Passionate. Wanting me, craving me, compelling me with his tongue.

There is no time to weigh my options, nor do I want to. I want to stop thinking and planning and worrying and caring. I want to melt into him and not care what the consequences will be.