What Grows Dies Here

CHAPTER THREE

Landslide – Fleetwood Mac

I came awake slowly, bright light hot against the backs of my eyelids. That in and of itself was strange. The only way I could get the small amount of sleep I got was by wearing a thick silk eye mask, which blocked out all light and was also wonderful for the skin.

There was no way I would’ve even dozed off without it. I couldn’t sleep without it. It had become somewhat of a compulsion

I was warm. Very fucking warm. There was a furnace behind me. Which was good, because I liked to sleep with my bedroom doors open, and they carried the cool breeze with them.

Karson.

He’d stayed over.

Hadn’t I told him he couldn’t?

I certainly had.

But he hadn’t listened to me. Should I have been surprised? I wasn’t really in the state to argue after he’d carried me into the bedroom and fucked me slowly, gently, yet somehow exhausting me and working all my muscles better than three back-to-back spin classes.

And I’d slept.

Without my eye mask.

Cuddling.

Or more accurately, with Karson cuddling me. Well, his alpha male version of cuddling, with his front pressed to my back, his arms vicelike around me.

I did not let men cuddle me, alpha male or not.

Like having sex without a condom, it was too intimate. Plus, I had a bad enough time sleeping without someone’s limbs and heavy breathing getting in my way.

It was a problem with almost every man I dated. Despite what they told their ‘bros’ to protect their vulnerable masculinity, in my experience, men needed to cuddle. Moreover, they wanted to be the little spoon. They wanted to feel nurtured, protected, taken care of. Not that they’d ever say it out loud.

“Mornin’,” Karson mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

I frowned as my body warmed further at the tenor of his voice, both comforted and turned on by it.

“I told you you weren’t allowed to stay over,” I grumbled. “You need to leave.” I tried to make my voice firm, but I was still tangled in a half-awake state that was altogether unusual for me.

I woke easily and instantly. I was never groggy, no matter how little sleep I got the night before. I was sure a sleep doctor would’ve loved to get their hands on me.

Karson didn’t respond. Instead, he flipped us so I was on my back, and he was hovering on top of me.

His hair was mussed from sleep, eyes lazy and turned on. There was a slight shadow on his jaw, barely there but noticeable that close. I reached up to stroke it, his hair jagged against my skin.

I couldn’t help my gesture. He looked different in the late morning light. Softer, somehow. Impossibly handsome in a way that hurt my fucking soul. My body had never been more wired and relaxed at the same time. I’d never felt more at home than right in that very moment. Waking up with a man who was essentially a stranger.

Completely fucking insane.

Something changed in his expression when I touched him like that. Something melted.

My breath left my lungs. “You need to leave,” I whispered, my words thin, full of holes.

Karson smiled slowly, the grin lighting up his handsome face. His hand moved under the covers, ghosting up my inner thigh. My toes curled as he trailed his fingers against the hair in between my legs, not slipping inside, driving me fucking crazy.

I was pinned to the bed, glued in place, held hostage by him.

Karson leaned down to kiss my neck. His hands moved over my stomach, up to my breasts, circling my sensitive nipples.