We made our way into the small room, aka closet, and without thinking, I lay down trying to make space for her. She lay down next to me, closing the door and only leaving a crack so we could have fresh air.
Our breathing was our music.
Our bodies our heat.
And just when I thought I was going to go to sleep, she turned and pulled me into her arms, officially making me the mother fucking small spoon.
And I would take it to my grave, lie to the government, grandkids, whoever—but I smiled and fell right the hell to sleep. Feeling. Safe.
Chapter Sixteen
Olivia
I fell asleep holding him against me. At first, it was supposed to be a joke, and then the next thing I knew—I was dying of heatstroke.
And it was morning.
“Why,” Mark groaned as he moved away from me, “are we wet?”
It was one of those moments where you’re so grossed out you don’t even want to move but also moving might prove who the culprit of wherever all the wetness came from, making you want to disappear into a puddle of shame.
“I’m…” I started. “I’m actually not sure. I mean…it happens to lots of people, but, like, did you ever have an issue peeing the bed?”
“Yes. And as an adult, I’ve still been unable to control my urges when I’m lying next to a hot girl!” he roared.
“I am hot, like physically scorched.” I sniffed. “And seriously?”
“No, not seriously.” He used his foot to open the door.
I assumed, probably just like he did that fresh air would be like a mountains breeze kiss upon our faces.
Instead, it was just as warm in the apartment.
“Heating and cooling, zero stars,” Mark muttered as he crawled out of the little hole we were sleeping in.
“Do not recommend,” I grumbled. “So the good news, you didn’t pee the bed.”
“Good news neither did you.” He held up his hand for a high five.
I groaned and hit it, my hand slippery from sweat. “I’ve never felt more disgusting in my life, and I used to work at a funeral home after hours as a janitor; nobody needs to see that much embalming fluid, nobody.”
Mark started to gag.
I hit him on the back. “You okay?”
“Sorry, it’s one of my things.”
“Things?”
“Every time I hear the word embalm, I’m brought back to my senior year of high school and the smell of the fluid as we dissected cats. One time, some of the…” he gagged again. “Skin got caught, and my mouth was open, and the fluid just flicked right onto my tongue.”
I stared at his face, all scrunched in an agonized grimace. “You know I’m never kissing you again, right?”
“Damn it, it was years ago!”
“Four and a half. My bet, it’s still in your system…” I leaned in and whispered. “Lingering…”
“Why must I tell you every life story that makes you want to run in the opposite direction?”
I grinned. “It’s kinda sexy.”
“Really?”
“No, embalming fluid in your mouth and you telling me about it will never be sexy, but you looked ready to cry, so I thought I’d make you feel better.”
“I’m not crying; my body’s crying from lack of air conditioning. Come on, we need to find out what’s going on.” He marched down the hall and discovered the wall thermometer; it was one of those high-tech ones that probably synced with an iPhone.
It looked extremely sleek—translation: it looked complicated, and Mark didn’t seem to be the type of guy who built computers, you know?
“Wow.” He tapped it.
Actually tapped it like that would fix it.
Sigh.
“It says ninety degrees.” He hung his head. Was it wrong that I loved the little bit of sweat that was dripping down the back of his neck?
He was hot on his best day.
On his worst?
I wanted to lick him.
Something was wrong with me.
He wiped the sweat and made a face, “How the hell did it get so hot in here?”
“Look, there has to be some sort of…furnace room or something, right? Don’t all houses have a place where the AC’s located along with all the other doodads?”
He barked out a laugh. “Holy shit, did you say doodads?”
“Shut it.” I smacked his chest. “Come on, we’re hunting for the man stuff that you’ll probably tap with your pinky finger and go, ‘Eureka it’s fixed,’ only to burn down the entire apartment building!”
“Okay, first off.” He pushed me up against the wall. Both of our sweaty bodies were slick against each other; what should have been disgusting was so erotic a little moan escaped between my parted lips. “I never say Eureka.”
His blue eyes flashed with mischief of the sexual variety.
I gulped. “And?”
“And…” His hand moved from my naked hips up to my breast. “I kind of like how it looks like I fucked you into oblivion all night when really, let’s be honest, I fell asleep to snoring.”