Angel, Page 61

Page 61

 

  Alex went very still.

  I swallowed. “I mean —”

  “You mean sleep, right?” he said at the same time.

  I nodded.

  “Thought so,” he said. He took my hand, rubbing his thumb against my palm in lazy circles, and I felt myself go weak. “I’m not sure how much sleep I’ll get with you in the same room, but — yeah, OK. Do you want to take the bed? I can crash on the floor. ”

  There was no way that I wanted him to stop touching me, even for a few hours. My pulse thudded as I glanced across at the camp bed. I cleared my throat. “Well . . . is there a reason we can’t both take the bed? The sleeping bags zip together, don’t they?” Alex stared at me without moving. “Would that be OK?” I asked, feeling nervous suddenly.

  The lantern light made his eyes look darker, his hair almost black. He started to smile, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes, that would be extremely OK. ”

  We brushed off the camp bed and got the sleeping bags out of their compact nylon bags, fluffing them out. They were black, with a bright blue lining. Kneeling on the floor together, we silently worked the zippers. My fingers felt clumsy as I fumbled with them. The thought of lying next to Alex all night, holding him, was making me light-headed.

  “There,” he said finally, getting up and flopping the sleeping bags onto the bed. “Everything except pillows. ” He glanced at me, and the look in his eyes exactly reflected how I felt — so warm and so full of wonder that this had actually happened between us. I love you, Alex, I thought. I love you so much.

  “Who needs pillows?” I whispered. Stepping forward, I slipped my arms around his waist, resting my head against his chest. His own arms encircled me, holding me close. “Remember back in Arkansas, when we were looking at the cotton?” I said. “I really wanted to do this then. Just . . . put my arms around you. ”

  He tipped my chin up with his hand, kissing me. I could feel his smile against my mouth. “I would have loved it,” he said. “We seriously wouldn’t have gotten much driving done the rest of that day, though. ”

  I shook my head. “No, probably not. ”

  As Alex went outside to get changed, I quickly brushed my teeth. Wavering for a moment, I finally pulled off the red sweater that he’d gotten me, leaving on the sweatpants and T-shirt. The bandage on my left arm looked stark against my skin; I touched it, remembering how Alex’s fingers had lingered when he’d put it on. Sitting on the edge of the camp bed, I brushed my hair. I do that every night, but I don’t think it’s ever felt so charged with meaning. With every stroke of the brush, all I could think of was Alex, out there in the darkness.

  I almost jumped when the door opened. Alex came back inside, wearing black sweatpants; I swallowed as I saw his chest was bare. “Forgot my T-shirt,” he said sheepishly. His bag was on the floor near the bed, and I watched the lantern light play on his skin as he crossed to it. Squatting by the bag, he pulled out a T-shirt; I sat frozen, taking in the movement of his back and shoulders.

  I stood up, my heart hammering. “Wait. Can I just . . . ?” I trailed off as he turned to look at me.

  “What?” he said, rising to his feet.

  An embarrassed laugh escaped me. I shook my head. “Just — before you put that on, can I . . . ?” In slow motion, I went over to him. I reached out toward his chest and then stopped, my fingers hesitating an inch from his skin. “Is — is this all right?”

  Alex stood very still, a soft smile on his face. “Anything you want is all right. ”

  Gently, I ran my hand across his chest, exploring it. My breath felt tight in my throat. He was so beautiful. His muscles were toned, defined, his skin warm and smooth. Stroking my palm up over the line of his collarbone, I felt the firmness of his shoulder, the strength of his bicep. I traced my fingers over the black AK, following the lines of the letters. Alex hardly moved as I touched him, his eyes never leaving me.

  Finally I sighed and dropped my hand. I tried to smile. “I’ve sort of been wanting to do that ever since that first night in the motel room,” I admitted.

  His eyebrows shot up. “You have? But you hated me then. ”

  “I know, but you were still gorgeous. ” Unable to stop myself, I trailed my hand across his torso again. “Anyway, I didn’t hate you. I really wanted to, but I think I knew even then —” I broke off as heat swept my cheeks. I had almost said the words; I’d almost told him I loved him.

  “What?” asked Alex.

  I couldn’t meet his gaze. I stared at the table just behind him — the mess of cards on it, the lantern giving off its quiet glow. “When you gave me your shirt to wear that night, I could feel you. I could feel your essence. ”

  The world went still. We were standing only inches from each other, not touching. Outside, I could hear the faint murmur of the wind blowing through the trees.

  “What did it feel like?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Like . . . coming home,” I admitted.

  My chest clenched as I looked up at him. His eyes were locked on mine. Taking my arms, he sat us both down on the bed. “Willow, you know that you said you couldn’t tell how I felt at the rest stop?”

  I nodded, and he took my hand, laying it flat on his chest with his own hand resting over it. “Can you tell now?” he asked.

  His heart beat firmly under my hand; my own pulse was pounding so hard that I could barely think straight. Closing my eyes, I took a deep, steadying breath, and then another as I tried to clear my mind, to feel what he was feeling. For a moment there was just the softness of our breathing — then all at once it washed over me in a great wave.

  He was in love with me, too.

  I opened my eyes. Alex was still holding my hand to his chest, watching me, his expression more serious than I’d ever seen it. Unable to speak, I slowly dropped my hand and wrapped my arms around him. His own arms came around me as he rested his head on my hair.

  “I really do, you know,” he said, his voice rough.

  “I know,” I whispered back. “I do, too. ”

  For a long time we just held each other, our hearts beating hard. My eyes were closed, my face pressed against the warm dip between his shoulder and neck. Alex. I felt a happiness so great that it was like a deep stillness within me, as if something I’d been looking for my entire life had just slotted into place, making me whole.

  Finally Alex drew back. Stroking my hair from my face, he kissed me slowly, and I wanted to melt. “I can’t believe that I can just do that whenever I want to now,” he whispered. “You may not be getting much done for the next few weeks. Or months, or years. ”

  Years. My heart skipped, hoping that was true. “I think I can live with that,” I said. Hardly able to believe that I could touch him whenever I wanted to, either, I slid my hand down his arm, feeling the different textures of him: hard muscle, smooth skin. “Do you want to go to bed?” I asked softly. Then, for the second time that night, I felt my face flame at the question.

  Alex smiled and touched my cheek. “You still mean sleep, right?”

  “Still sleep. ” My skin was on fire.

  “Just making sure. Yeah, sleep sounds good. I’m sure I’ll manage to drop off. Eventually. ” His smile turned teasing. “Do I have to put my shirt on?”