Don't Look Down

twenty-five: don't, I'm sore

I wake when it's still dark. Every muscle in my body is sore, in that impossibly satisfying way only great-scratch that, incredible-sex can achieve.

And we achieved it. All over the apartment.

No room was left untouched before we settled here in my bedroom. I'd been exhausted, barely able to keep my eyes open, as the last orgasm tore through my body. The pillow beneath my head was too tempting and with Seth warmly nestled against me, sleep had taken me.

He's still everywhere, the scent of him clinging to my sheets, but as I stretch my hand across the bed, I discover he's actually gone. It's not surprising since he'd never promised me anything. I'd made the only promise-my body without the investment of his heart.

But my heart doesn't seem to have gotten the terms of our arrangement because it feels pretty invested.

I roll over and run my hand through my hair, trying to get a hold on the emotions swirling in my chest. It's difficult. Half are a frenzy of gratified butterflies, delighted we'd finally crossed over that line we'd both been tip toeing. He'd been open about his attraction after weeks of masking it to protect what we had. And it's an extraordinary relief to know that everything I'd felt developing between us wasn't all in my head. That it was happening. That he'd let himself connect with me.

But the other half is terrified where that leaves us. Seth may have given me his body, but his absence in my bed proves his heart is still off the table. He's still the same guy who doesn't believe in love, or more accurately, won't let himself love because of what people in his past have done with that love. They misused it, threw it back in his face. Pairing that with the hundred other issues he seems to be battling on a daily basis doesn't exactly clear the way for a relationship.

Which, crap, isn't what I should be thinking about.

Even with the doubts, I can't bring myself to consider what we did a mistake. We'd fit together perfectly, proving we're just as compatible physically as we are mentally. We'd discovered if we just let go of the reasons why this can't work, it actually did.

My body ignites at that thought. Isn't this just a wonderful mess I've found myself in?

Realizing I'll get nowhere running endless circles in my head, I toss on a t-shirt and pajama shorts and head into the living room where I know I'll find Seth. He's probably asleep, but it's clear in the way my body still hums from his touch it's where I want to be.

The only light in the room is the glare from the television, which is airing something involving zombies. Seth's awake. He's seated in my spot, wearing a pair of black basketball shorts, a bowl nestled in his lap.

Throwing on a casual veil, I sit next to him. "What are you still doing up?" Considering it's four am, the question's reasonable.

"I could ask you the same." He leans down to scoop a spoonful of what looks like tomato soup into his mouth.