[smg id=31099 type=normal align=center width=150] by Kasey Millstead Read Free Book Online

me.  It’s so incredibly sweet, I may have a swooned a little.
    “Go take a shower, Willa.”
    “Okay.”  I dump my coffee in the sink and make my way to the shower. 
    Closing the bathroom door, I turn on the water and then take off my clothes while I wait for the water to heat.  My bathroom is small, but functional, and combines with the toilet.  It suits me fine though, since I’m the only one living here. 
    The color scheme is a little outdated – mustard yellow and brown – but I won’t be here forever, hopefully, so I just pretend it’s all sparkling white with black feature tiles.  In other words, my dream bathroom. 
    Actually, that’s how I picture my entire apartment.  I don’t see the decades-old carpet and the lime green cupboard doors.  Or the chipped ivory paint on the walls and the ancient light fixtures.  No, I see clean lines, white walls, and hardwood floors, with plush chocolate brown rugs throughout.  In the corner, where my small box television sits, I imagine is my wood fireplace, surrounded by a stone wall that reaches right to the ceiling.
    I step over the edge of my tub and into the shower and pull my floral curtain across, which is actually a large glass door in my mind.  My tub is a spa bath over in the corner and across the room from that is the his ‘n’ hers vanity with a mirror that stretches across the entire wall.
    I can dream, right?
    I wash my hair, erasing all the smoke and sweat from the night, and then scrub my body with my lilac loofa before quickly shaving my legs.  After I’m done, I step out and wrap a towel around my head before brushing my teeth and drying off.  I sling on my robe and tie the knot tight before ducking across the hall and into my bedroom.
    Once there, I change into my pajamas and brush the tangles out of my damp hair before twisting it up into a bun on top of my head.  I know I shouldn’t go to bed with it damp, but I’ll deal with it in the morning.
    I find Oak sitting on my couch, staring at the television.  It’s turned off and I briefly wonder if he has fallen asleep with his eyes open.  That’s possible, right?  I’m unsure whether to poke him to see if he’s awake or not. 
    Slowly, he turns his head my way and his eyes sweep down my body and back up again.  Then they go down again and back up again until he finally settles his gaze on my eyes.
    “Fuckin’ Christ,” he mutters under his breath.
    “Is everything okay?” I ask, noticing the pained look that’s creeping across his face.
    “You wear that to bed every night?” he asks tightly.
    “Sometimes.  I have a couple other pairs, mostly the same as this, just different designs on the fabric,” I ramble.  Shut up, Willa!  
    My pajamas aren’t really worthy of such a lengthy speech.  They’re old, worn, and there’s a small hole in one armpit.  But, they are comfortable, soft, and my favorite.  Pale pink, with small daisies scattered over them, the little booty shorts don’t twist when I toss and turn in my sleep, and the tee-shirt top is roomy, but not too big and not too small.  It fits me perfectly.
    But again, they’re nothing to write home about.  Certainly not spun from the wool of royal sheep or anything extravagant like that.
    He curses again and then stands, his tall frame instantly dwarfing mine.
    “Sit,” he commands.
    I sit, taking his place on my single sofa.  My eyes follow him as he stalks into the kitchen and snags one of my two dining chairs.  He holds it one hand while grabbing my first-aid kit with the other.  Placing the chair down in front of me, he sets the kit on the arm of my sofa and sits down.
    His warm hand wraps around my calf and goose bumps raise up over my body.
    I watch his face as he carefully inspects my heel.  His lips become tight, thin lines, and his eyes burn with anger.
    “You broke?”
    “No!” I’m shocked that he would ask such a personal question in such an abrupt way.
    His finger traces around the