“And then….THEN he tripped and fell flat on his ass. THAT’S how he broke his foot!” Trace says and I’m crying from laughter.

“Would you shut the hell up over there?” Justin hollers from his place at the grill, brandishing his spatula in a threatening gesture and Trace just grins.

“He’s a closet klutz don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

Trace winks at me and I grin back at him. I have no idea why I was even worried. When I stepped out of the house and into the backyard I was so nervous. I have dealt with some of the most renowned artists and archeologists in the world. I’ve met with multimillionaires to discuss funding for the museum. But for some reason meeting Justin’s friends had my stomach in knots.

This could be because of the fact that I was meeting them half naked. The suit that Justin had left on the bed for me was little more than scraps of fabric held together by bits of string, the soft blue nylon dipping just below my pelvic bone, exposing all of my tattoo, which I’m sure was his goal from the start. The little skirt on the bottoms is hardly long enough to reach my thighs and the two small triangles cover my breasts but just barely. Metallic scroll work in a blue just slightly darker than the rest of the suit curves and loops all over the fabric in a very loose interpretation of Greek architecture. It’s something I would never even give a second glance to if I was shopping. But I look damn good in it. How does he always do that? He comes in with little nighties and bra and panty sets that I wouldn’t buy in a million years but when I put them on they transform my body into something I never dreamed it could be.

Which is all well and good when it’s just he and I but not when we’re out back grilling with seven of his closest friends. I had crossed the patio shyly, settling awkwardly on a lounge chair while Justin ran in to change into his swimsuit. It was fairly awkward at first but then Trace sat down next to me and started regaling me with stories of Justin’s past, all the way from when they were kids in Memphis to the exploits of his last tour. I can see why the two of them are best friends.

We’ve been back here talking, drinking, and laughing for a few hours, “shootin’ the shit” as Trace and Justin say. This drinking and camaraderie, I’m not all that familiar with it, having spent the majority of my college career with my nose stuck in a book but it’s a lot more fun than I imagined. This could of course be the alcohol talking.

Rachel and her friend Laney are shooting playful barbs back and forth between each other, giggling tipsily before breaking out into loud laughter, Marty and Nick are paddling around the pool, and Tiny sits between Rachel and Laney listening intently, the eternal observer. Justin is just now pulling the burgers off the grill, setting them on a plate as Brennan sits expectantly at his feet, and Buckley is sprawled out on the warm pavement a few feet away. I watch Justin, the setting sun casting a warm glow on his naked torso as he closes the top on the grill and walks around it bringing the plate of food with him.

“Grub!” he hollers as he sets the plate on the table and everyone starts milling closer, grabbing paper plates and piling the food on. I’m about to get up when Trace stops me by leaning in close, seemingly sharing a secret.

“You should hear about the time he dressed up in Rachel’s prom dress,” Trace says and I chuckle to myself.

“I actually heard that one.”

Trace’s eyebrows raise. “Oh really?”

“Yeah and I heard he wasn’t the only one,” I tease lightly. Trace grins at me good naturedly.

“Told you about the high heels?” he asks and I grin nodding, “and the glitter eyeshadow.”

“Here ya go babe,” Justin says, handing me one of the plates in his hands before glaring down at Trace. “Get up.”

Trace peers up at him amused. “Sky and I were getting to know each other a little better.”

I giggle as he wiggles his eyebrows at me, alcohol forcing me into a slight daze and making everything seem funnier than it is.

“Ha ha,” Justin replies condescendingly. “Come on man, move.”

“Alright…alright but only because I’m starving,” Trace replies, pulling himself up and stretching before patting Justin on the shoulder and going to get a plate.

Justin sets his plate down next to me on the lounge before tugging the legs of his shorts up and straddling the end of the chair. He tugs himself forward so that his knee presses to mine and he leans in to nuzzle my cheek, receiving a giggle in return before grinning to himself and digging into his food.

“You doing okay?” he asks and I nod, trying wrap my hands around the massive sandwich he’s handed me.

“This is fun,” I say, trying to take a bite and barely being able to fit it in my mouth. “Jeez Jus this is huge,” I say, chewing slowly and wiping at my chin.

“I get that a lot,” he smirks, eyes a little hazy from the alcohol and I giggle pushing at his shoulder. He looks around his brow knitting. “Damn I forgot a drink. You want another beer?”

“Um okay,” I say knowing I probably shouldn’t drink anymore but I don’t want to be the only one not drinking.

He starts to get up but Laney’s voice stops him. “I’ll get it for you Jus.”

I nearly choke on the bite I just took, keeping my head down. Justin’s knee bumps mine and I see his thigh tense. No one calls him that but me. Jealousy flairs in me but I stop myself, finding that I’d fallen into the old trap of forgetting who he is, what he does. He has girls screaming for him and wanting to be with him all over the country. I shake my head. He’s here with me. He brought me here to meet his friends. I don’t own that nickname for him. It’s probably just a coincidence that she used it. Its not like she likes him or anything.

“Thanks, get two will ya?” Justin responds, one large hand smoothing up and down my back a few times before reaching down to grab his burger again.

Laney slinks over, two cans of beer in her hands and I take one from her, trying to smile but she isn’t looking at me. She’s looking at Justin, smiling down at him in a shy way. Okay maybe I wasn’t overreacting.

 He takes his can from her, giving her a quick smile before ducking his head to pop the top. She waits a beat before turning away, looking at him over her shoulder before settling back in her chair.

I watch Justin for a moment as he takes a swig of his beer before setting it on the ground next to his feet and picking up his sandwich again seemingly unaffected. Okay, I’m overreacting. Laney’s a nice girl. She’s been quiet all evening but not unfriendly. I’m sure I’m overreacting.

“Everything okay?” Justin asks and I snap out of my daze, realizing I’ve been staring at him and have barely touched my food.

“Oh…yeah,” I say and give him a quick smile. He smiles back at me, rubbing a hand over my back again, before shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.

I attempt to eat my burger the best I can, chewing slowly. Justin is watching me intently, picking at his chips and eating them, his eyes never leaving me. He always did that, just sat and stared at me. He reaches up and brushes my hair off my shoulder, leaning in to press a kiss there sweetly, allowing his hand to run down my back again. I look over at him, swallowing and I smile.

“What are you looking at?” I ask in a low whisper and he grins at me, chuckling a little.

“You,” he replies and I giggle, taking another bite of my sandwich.

“Well stop you’re making me nervous,” I reply, poking him in the chest and he smirks at me.

He leans in to kiss me but stops when a shadow is cast over us. I look up and Laney is standing there holding several empty plates. She smiles at Justin, again not looking at me.

“I’ll take your plate Jus,” she says, holding out her hand. There’s that name again.

Justin nods, handing her his empty plate and thanking her before turning back to me and pulling himself closer to me. He tugs me to him, the hand on my back wrapping around to hold me at my hip, his other hand resting warmly on my stomach. I set my food aside as I wrap one arm around his sun warmed shoulders, settling against him comfortably and everything is fine. Who cares what she calls him. He’s with me. That’s all I really need. He nuzzles my ear, kissing down my cheek and I turn my head capturing his lips with mine. He pulls back slightly, nuzzling his nose against mine and grinning, his blue eyes dancing happily and everyone and everything else just melts away.

“I like your swimsuit,” he says, his fingers slipping down to run over the ink of my tattoo before flattening his hand and smoothing it back up my stomach.

“Oh I’m sure you do,” I reply, gasping as his mouth opens against my neck, his tongue reaching out to dot my skin before his teeth graze gently. “Justin…” I giggle warningly, my eyes flitting to the group of people sitting not five feet away.

“What?” he asks pulling back to grin at me, his eyes hazy and I giggle.

“You’re drunk,” I reply nodding my head at him and he narrows his eyes, shaking his head from side to side.

“Nope, I’ll tell you what I am though,” he says, smirking at me and I feel his hand slide down my back, fingers tracing my spine. I shiver.

“What’s that?” I ask and he grins, tilting his head to nibble at my neck before breathing hotly against my ear.

“Horny.”

I burst out laughing. “Justin!” I pull back slightly, giving his shoulder a shove and he laughs, dropping his head to my shoulder and sighing. “You are so drunk.”

“I’m not so drunk,” he replies scoffing playfully and then he lowers his voice. “I want you.”

“I’m right here,” I reply, smoothing his curls back from his forehead and he raises his eyebrows, taking my hands in his, his thumbs smoothing over my knuckles.

“Right here?” he asks, smirking at me playfully, bringing my hand to his lips while the other snakes around my back again. “In front of all these people?” I laugh, letting my head fall back with a sigh. He’s such a kid sometimes. “That’s a little kinky for me but all right if that’s what you want.” His fingers find the bow at my back and I gasp.

“Justin Timberlake, don’t you dare!” I exclaim and he laughs, a deep throaty sound from his chest, his fingers walking back down my spine in concession. I press my lips to the side of his face and he grins widely.

 “So how’d you two meet?”

Its Laney’s voice and he and I both look up finding everyone at the table watching us now, the laughter dying down. She’s sitting back in her chair, one bare foot propped against the edge of the table, eyeing the two of us amusedly, her beer bottle dangling from her finger tips off the side of her chair. My eyes flit to Tiny who’s face is a mask. He’ll reveal nothing, strong and silent as always. Justin and I look to the ground, shifting uncomfortably as the silence stretches on.

This is always problematic. How did I meet Justin? Well, we met on tour. No, I wasn’t an assistant or a wardrobe girl. I was a tutor. His tutor. If the silence wasn’t awkward before it definitely would be after that.

“Um we met awhile ago,” Justin says flippantly, waving his hand and that seems to be that, the others starting to chatter again. Apparently Justin’s word is law around here.

Or so he thinks.

“Really? How long ago?” Laney presses and everyone quiets again, her eyes boring into him and I look from her to him and find his jaw tight, his eyes warning.

“Awhile,” he replies hardly, glaring at her and the other occupants of the table look down but she’s undeterred.

“She’s older than you right?” Laney asks, taking a drink from the bottle in her hand, eying him challengingly

“Justin likes older women,” Trace jumps in, chuckling lightly, trying to cut the tension. “Still needs to learn a thing or two.”

“Oh I heard she taught him some stuff,” Laney responds, taking another swig of her drink and the electricity in air is amplified tenfold. Justin’s fingers curl against my back as I drop my head, looking at the ground. “How old we you when you met her? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

Seventeen. I cringe, nails biting into my palms as my heart starts to race. I can feel the heat of Justin’s anger, his body tense next to mine, the hand on my back gripping at my skin hard enough to bruise.

“Laney,” Rachel whispers, tugging on her arm. “Come on…you’re drunk.”

“So what if I am drunk?” Laney responds, setting her bottle on the table with a jarring thump and then leaning back in her chair, jutting her chin out defiantly. “I’m just asking a question.” Her eyes fall on Justin again, scorn and something else I can’t place painting her face. She smirks. “Did you hit it back then Jus? Did you even have hair on your dick yet?”

Justin flies up from his seat, fists balled at his sides as I gasp. “Laney! Inside right fucking now.”

“Justin,” Rachel says, her voice warning, her eyes pleading and Justin just shakes his head.

“Come on,” Justin says turning resolutely towards the house. “Inside. Now.”

Laney pulls herself from her chair and wobbles her way towards Justin, defiance in her eyes and a smirk on her lips  He glares at her, jaw set as he opens his arm to let her pass in front of him. He and Rachel share a look before he follows Laney towards the house and then inside, shutting the sliding glass door behind him with a snap.

“Uh…I should go,” Nick says, looking at Marty who nods, both of them standing.

“Yeah, me too,” Marty responds awkwardly. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Skylar.”

I stand, reaching to shake Marty and Nick’s hands. They look amused at this. Apparently you don’t shake hands in this situation. Great.

“Yeah, great meeting you,” I reply, watching them walk toward the house and disappear through a gate I hadn’t even noticed before.

“Uh… I’m gonna go turn off the grill and head out too,” Trace says, standing and heading out towards the grill. “Great meeting you Sky,” he says grinning at me and I grin back. His face goes solemn as he looks at Rachel. He nods at her before turning and making his way to the grill.

“I’m gonna go get the car,” Tiny says, pulling his hulking form from the chair and I look at him slightly panicked. For some reason Tiny being here is a comfort. I know Tiny and he knows me. He knows everything. He gets it. “Yeah,” Rachel replies sighing and he gives her a pat on the shoulder before ambling towards the house.

“Good seeing you again, Sky,” he adds, giving me a curt nod as he walks past and I watch as he leaves through the side gate.

I turn back and find Rachel eyeing the glass door to the kitchen wearily. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m out of the loop. This part of his life, I’m not a part of it. It makes me wonder if he’s a completely different person when he’s here. It makes me wonder if he thinks of me when he’s here. Am I that saturated into his life that I permeate his every thought even when he’s away from me? Because that’s certainly the case with me.

“We should go inside,” Rachel says after a moment and I press my lips together in a tight smile. This is awkward.

I follow her to the gate, listening as she whistles for Brennan and Buckley who trot after us. We step into a lush pathway with trees hanging overhead, meandering around the side of the house until we reach a side door. Rachel opens the it, allowing the dogs entry and I follow, finding us in a laundry room, the yelling audible even from where we stand.

“I never fucking promised you anything Laney.” Justin’s voice echoes off the high walls. “There was never anything between you and me.”

“What, so all the flirting and the innuendo, that just meant nothing?” Laney’s voice rings out and Rachel and I don’t look at each other, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Justin exclaims and I can hear the frustration in his voice.

“Why don’t you go on upstairs,” Rachel says softly, nodding toward the doorway and I nod, looking back uncertainly. “Yeah just go through the family room and you’ll be in the foyer again.”

I make my way through the large family room, walking cautiously around the leather couches in the darkening room. The sun is setting and the house is nearly dark as I make my way back into the foyer and through the great room, Brennan and Buckley trailing after me, wondering what this stranger is doing traipsing around their master’s house. I hear angry murmurings from the kitchen as I make my way up the stairs, the dogs stopping at the base, the angry voices drawing their attention.

“Fine!” Laney exclaims, loudly causing me to halt about halfway up. “You just run off to New York with her and live happily ever after. Maybe you can stop off at a high school on the way for a little menage a trois.”

I close my eyes and cringe. Will it always come back to this? Are we destined to account for ourselves for the rest of our lives? Is it really gonna be one pedophile joke after another?

“HEY!” Justin’s voice echoes angrily. Not if he has anything to do with it.

“Come on Laney, lemme take you home.”

Its Tiny’s voice, gentle and coaxing and I freeze as I see him guiding Laney past the stairs and toward the foyer. She’s hugging herself, her face tearstained and I almost feel bad for her. Brennan and Buckley follow behind them, guiding the newly christened intruder in her journey out the door.

“I don’t want her in my fucking house anymore, Rachel,” Justin barks, his voice closer this time and I panic, making quick work of the rest of the stairs, padding my way down the carpeted hall toward the double doors of his bedroom.

“What so I can’t have friends now?” Rachel’s angry voice wafts up the stairs and I cringe.

I tug down on the lever handle, pushing gently and slip inside, the room almost completely dark aside from the soft light of the setting sun that is filtering feebly through the French doors to the balcony. The large bed is perfectly made, a mass of soft blue sheets and pillows overlooking a marble fireplace, candles scattered around ledge. An overstuffed chair sits next to the doors leading to the balcony, a book sitting on the table next to it and I step over to see the title.

But my breath catches in my throat as I catch sight of the magnificent view, the sky painted pink and orange and purple, the rolling countryside dotted with homes, lights twinkling in the windows. I step out onto the balcony, propelled by the beauty of the scene and I’m struck by the fact that Justin sees this everyday. He wakes up to it. He goes to sleep with it. I can’t help but wonder why he spends so much time in New York with my shitty view of the concrete jungle, buildings and sidewalks, street lamps and garbage cans.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel two strong arms wrap around my waist, hugging me back against his naked torso and I grin as his lips smudge along my shoulder. He heaves a sigh, his chin resting against my shoulder, swaying me gently to the music in his head.

“Some view,” I whisper, still slightly enthralled and he cranes his neck, looking down my body

“Indeed,” he grins and I roll my eyes playfully, elbowing him in the ribs gently. He huffs, the air leaving his lungs as I pull from his grasp and smirk at him over my shoulder before moving to the bed, fingers playing along the soft blue comforter. “I’m sorry about Laney.”

I turn to find him standing there, the dying light causing his skin to glow warm, his hand rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly. He bites his lip and winces and I know he’s wishing he never even mentioned it. He’s searching for something else to say.

“Its okay,” I say, nodding my head and he scowls.

“It’s not okay,” he insists. “Laney…” he sighs. “Laney has a…a thing for me…or something,” he spats, waving his hands in the air in frustration. “I tell Rachel…I tell her I don’t like girls hanging around. It’s all drama and petty bullshit and all they wanna do is…” he trails, looking up and his eyes widen when he realizes it’s me he’s speaking to. “um…”

“All they wanna do is what?” I ask grinning at him and his cheeks redden.

“Um…”

“Fuck you?” I ask, raising an eyebrow and he gives me a tight smile.

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I mean, its not that I don’t want Rachel to have friends. I mean you know…why can’t she just have guy friends?”

“Justin, a girl cannot just have guy friends,” I reply, looking around the room. My brow furrows. “Where’s my suitcase?”

Justin sighs, walking over to a set of doors and disappearing through them into the closet, reappearing a moment later with my luggage. “Why not?” he asks, hauling it onto the bed.

“Why not what?” I respond unzipping the bag and pawing through for a pair of underwear, stifling a yawn with the back of my hand.

“Why can’t she just have guy friends?” he whines, peering into my suitcase.

“Because she needs someone to talk to, someone she’s close to,” I reply, watching him reach to touch my things gingerly but stops, looking at me with a frown.

“She’s close to me.”

I smile softly at him touching his face. His scowl lessens. “Do you wanna hear her talk about sex?”

He jerks his head back. “Ew! God no!”

I laugh. “Then she needs girl friends.”

“Fine,” he sighs, grumbling slightly as he reaches into my bag and plucks out a pair of barely there silk panties. He smirks. “These.” I grin, snatching them from his hand and turn toward the bathroom. “Sky, wait.” I pause, turning back and he’s back inside the closet. I hear him rummaging around, the clink of hangers knocking against each other and he reappears, tossing a ball of fabric my way. I catch it against my chest and his scent instantly envelops me. “You can sleep in that.”

“Anything else?” I ask before stepping into the bathroom.

“Nah that’s it,” he replies, missing my sarcasm as he goes back into the closet.

I step into the bathroom, startled for a moment by the size of it. A large whirlpool tub is nestled under a large open window, boasting views equally as breathtaking as the one in his bedroom. Half burned candles litter the edges of the tub and I can just see him relaxing in here after a hard day, head tipped back, eyes closed.

There’s something almost voyeuristic about being in his house, surrounded by his things. There’s so much I don’t know about him now. So many ways he’s changed and being here, in his most intimate of sanctuaries, it’s good to know that some things haven’t. Like the pile of dirty clothes in the corner.

I chuckle to myself, peeling off the tiny swimsuit and slipping comfortably into his old t-shirt. It smells like him, soft from frequent wear and its better than any nightie he could ever buy me. I squint at myself in the mirror, finding my small toiletries bag nestled against the side of the vanity and pull out my toothbrush and soap. I go through my nightly ritual- face wash, moisturizer, body lotion- and as I’m brushing my teeth I realize what a pain in the ass my nightly ritual is. All this crap I have to drag with me everywhere. It’s practically taking over Justin’s counter.

I rinse my tooth brush and wonder if he would mind if I left this stuff out instead of having to repack and unpack it again and again. My brain stalls, body seizing in panic. Is that some kind of step? Like leaving your stuff at a guy’s place, in his bathroom. That’s a step right? Is it a step he wants to take with me yet? I mean he invited me over here, across the country to stay in his home but does that mean I should really make myself at home?

I close my eyes trying to think of what he does when he stays with me. He keeps his tooth brush, deodorant, razor and shaving crème in a drawer in my bathroom. He uses my toothpaste. But all of his stuff is still in ziplock bags. God what does it all mean? I’m too old for this. This is the kind of ridiculous pondering you do in your early twenties.

“Everything okay?”            

I turn and find Justin standing in the doorway in boxers and a wife beater. I stare back at him, holding my toothbrush dumbly, looking from him to the jars and pots I’ve set on his counter. He smiles as he steps towards me, taking the toothbrush from my hand and dropping it in the holder, right next to his. He kisses my forehead and reaches around me to tug open a drawer in the vanity.

“I cleared this one out so you could put all your beauty crap in it,” he says and I watch his brow furrow when he sees the mess on the counter. “Maybe I should have given you the bigger one.” I purse my lips, unable to contain my grin.

“Oh stop,” I say pushing his shoulder and he grins at me, kissing my cheek sweetly as his arms snake around my waist, his hands reaching to grab my ass.

“Get in bed,” he whispers lowly into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine and I yelp when he smacks my ass playfully, giving me a little shove towards the doorway.

I giggle to myself, padding back into his bedroom and approaching the massive pile of sheets and pillows that is his bed.

“Hey Jus, where do you want these?” I ask, grabbing two of the decorative pillows and holding them out. He leans back from the sink so he can see me from the doorway of the bathroom and I giggle because he looks adorable with his face half covered in shaving crème.

“Just toss them at the end of the bed. That’s where they usually are when I’m not trying to seduce you,” he grins and leans back over the sink and out of sight.

I grin to myself, tossing all the pillows towards the end of the bed and then I struggle to pull the heavy comforter back, fighting a yawn. My fingers brush the soft cotton of his sheets and I briefly wonder what side I should sleep on. I try to think of which side he’s always slept on. I smirk when I realize it’s usually whatever side he falls on when he rolls off of me. I sigh, resigning not to care about it any more, allowing my body to fall into his bed, the water blue sheets engulfing me and I have never felt fabric this soft in my life.

I pull the blankets over me, burrowing down and holy hell this is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been in in my entire life. I nestle my head against one of his pillows, my body relaxing completely as his scent surrounds me and a quiet contentment washes over me, my head lolling to the side towards the doorway to the bathroom, waiting, eyelids heavy.

Something catches my eye on the bedside table and my heart drops, eyes opening wide. I hesitate for a moment, blinking, thinking maybe I’m seeing things before I resign to struggle across the mammoth bed towards it, reaching for the hair clip sitting innocuously next to his alarm clock. My fingers wrap around it and it hurts to hold it, to know that it was probably left here by some other girl. Someone other than me that shared his bed.

I bite my lip, my fingertips smoothing over the dips and planes of it and I gasp as pain shocks through me, pulling my finger away and finding a small cut on the pad of my index finger, blood bubbling to the surface. I scowl at it, remembering a long time ago when I used to cut my finger on a hair clip that looked a lot like…

My eyes widen and I turn it over in my hands again and again and there it is, a small chip in the plastic near the springs from when I dropped it getting off the bus so many summers ago, the edge sharp as ever. I stare at it dumbfounded and notice it’s a lot more beat up than when it was in my possession, the plastic tortoise shell finish scared and scratched, a few teeth missing from being carted around the world at the bottom of his suitcase.

I nearly scream, the clip falling from my hands as Brennan and Buckley both fly onto the bed, snorting and panting, trampling my body under the sheets. Buckley jumps forward, wagging his tail playfully, his front paws on either side of my waist, licking my face. I sputter and cough, laughing as I push at his chest, barely moving him. Brennan makes herself comfortable at the end of the bed, ignoring me completely.

“Aw come on guys,” I hear Justin groan and he’s pulling on both their collars, dragging them towards the door, his face still half obscured by shaving crème, the other half smooth. “Not tonight… Don’t gimme that face,” he warns as he closes the door on them.

They whine and I hear a paw scratching at the wood but a quick whistle from Justin and they’re silent. He sighs, shaking his head as he walks back towards the bathroom. He grins at me and I can’t help but giggle at him, his face half shaved, walking around in his underwear.

“You look good in my bed,” he says, before disappearing into the bathroom again and I can’t help but agree.

I manage to find the hair clip in the mess of sheets and place it gingerly back where I found it. I’ll ask him about it later. My eyelids are heavy as I settle back against the pillows again, the combination of jet lag and alcohol making my limbs heavy. I rub my cheek against his pillow, the softness of it soothing me as I drift in and out of consciousness, barely noticing when the light flicks off and the room is thrown into darkness.

I feel him slide into bed next to me, his legs smoothing against mine as he props his head on his hand, using his other to brush the hair away from my face. I try and pull my eyes open, struggling to smile at him. He kisses my forehead and down my face, his hand sliding down my arm and reaching for my hip, tugging my body closer to his and my arm wraps weakly around his waist, my face pressing into his chest. His hand smoothes around to grip my ass, squeezing softly and I want to lift my head to kiss him but my body doesn’t listen. I’m too comfortable and sleep is so close.

He sighs. “You’re tired,” he whispers, pecking my forehead softly and burrowing down in the covers with me.

“Nooooooo,” I slur, my hands pawing weakly at his sides. “No, I want to.”

My eyes are closed but I can tell he’s grinning. “We have all week baby.” His fingers run through my hair. “Sleep.”

He settles onto his back and pulls me against his chest, my ear resting over his heart and I’m fading fast but I want to stay awake. I want to lay here against him and savor this moment but my body is just too exhausted. His lips press to my temple and he whispers softly that he loves me and that’s all it takes for me to drift into a peaceful slumber.