She could tell by the way he waited until Blake definitely was asleep—just totally passed out the way she had, heavy and slowly breathing at her right side—then tugged at the sheets until he could pull them over her lower body. It was cute that he pulled them over Blake, too. She loved him back, fiercely, for being that way. Though she couldn’t decide how she felt about the other thing he was doing, which amounted to not being particularly bothered that he hadn’t come. What kind of person wasn’t bothered? He’d been all worked up that way and he was just going to what—let them snooze away in Sleepyland? She got most of him, most of the time. But she couldn’t for the life in her get this. He was still immensely hard, after all. She could see it poking right up at her from where she was, half laid on his chest with her ear pressed right over his heart so she could hear it going. It sounded fucking loud, unbearably loud and fast. Like he’d just run a marathon even though she knew for a fact he hadn’t crossed the finishing line.
