Chapter Thirty-Six

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                "Katherine." A honey-coated voice drew me gently from sleep. "Katherineee." He repeated in almost a sing song voice.

I opened my eyes to darkness. There wasn't a bag over my head, I wasn't stuffed in some sort of crate, it must have just still been night time. I blinked several times to the room. Alessio had his arm over my waist and was holding me against his bare chest, our bodies matching at every bend leaving no room between us. He was holding me in a way I hadn't allowed him in the weeks following Nash's shooting and a way he hadn't attempted in the days since I'd admitted I'd kissed him.

Things had been strained at best.

For a reason I couldn't understand I didn't say anything. Would he just assume I was still asleep? Why would I want him to assume I was still asleep? Why would he wait until the middle of the night to finally break weeks of no physical contact and near silence?

He moved the collar of his shirt I was wearing to the side and kiss the back of my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep from shuddering. "Katherine." He muttered his words fanned the back of my neck and I knew I had goosebumps.

He brought his hand down along the buttons of the shirt I was wearing. "Why do you always wear this?" I didn't answer and he kissed the back of my neck several times, trailing kisses all the way up to my ear. "I know you're awake." He breathed into my ear. "I know you baby. And I know the way your body reacts to my touch." He continued dragging his hand down until he found the hem up my shirt. "You've tensed up, you're holding your breath, your skin is so hot beneath my touch. I know you're awake." He continued and moved his hand up under my shirt.

I let out a breath and he chuckled. Weeks without Alessio's touch. How had I not realized how much I missed this? How much I needed him. How could I go weeks, let alone days or hours without his hand grazing my bare skin? He left a trail of flaming skin as he moved his hand further up my stomach.

How had I not jumped him before? I mean, I understand I might have been a little angry after the whole shooting Nash who had easily become my best friend thing, and he was obviously more than a little angry after I had made a run for it and broke the fidelity of our relationship, but don't people say angry sex is like amazing? I should have accepted his calls while he was away and touched myself to his voice, I should have demanded his touch the moment he got home rather than arguing the way we had, I should have stayed up late waiting for him in nothing but lingerie when he had started coming home later and later to avoid me. How had we let it be for this long?

"Why?" He whispered into my ear pulling me back to reality.

"W-why what?" I stammered trying to focus on the way his fingertips muddled along my curves, so purposefully grazing the areas he knew both tickled and sent shivers up my spine.

"Why do you always wear my shirt to sleep?"

"I-I don't...I don't know."

He removed his hand so suddenly from under the shirt I swear I felt a gush of cool air, or maybe it was just my body freezing over the way it did when he wasn't with me.

"I didn't know it bothered you." I said feeling almost like I was back to earth, back in our house, in our room, in our bed, not off in some wonderful world high above in the sky.

"Did I say it bothered me?"

"Well no but-"

He undid a button before I could even finish my thought. "I love it, trust me, you look absolutely...ravishing in nothing but my shirt but..." He pulled me hard against him again and I gasped. "There's just too much between us." He muttered into my ear as he began undoing my buttons.

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