I was sore in so many places, but it was a pleasant kind of ache, a reminder of what had happened last night. West and I had had sex. Not only had he made me come twice, but I had also stayed in bed with him. Never in my twenty-five years of existence, had I stayed the night with a guy. This was a momentous—and fucking scary—event. We both slept on our sides facing each other, with my head tucked under his chin. His long arms were wrapped around me, and I’d be damned if it didn’t make me feel safe and wanted. As carefully as possible, I shifted around so I could look at his sleeping face. Even with the wan light coming through the blinds, the sight of him took my breath away. Honestly, I had no idea how this gorgeous man could ever think I was beautiful—but hell, if he had weak eyesight, then who was I to buy him glasses? I sighed. It was official: I cared about him.
