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Chapter Ten
After dinner, we head back to my house. As he’s walking me to the door, I feel bold enough to ask, “Do you want to stay the night?”
He stills. “Brielle—”
I place my hand on his chest. “Sylar, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. We can just cuddle, or whatever.”
I don’t think I’ve ever had to talk a guy into my bed by telling him he’s safe from me. From his previous comment, it seems like he feels like he doesn’t deserve anything from me. I feel like he’s slowly allowing himself to enjoy us more and more, to not feel so guilty about being happy, but I don’t think he realizes that he’s also punishing me by resisting. Okay, that’s a pretty dramatic thing to say.
And selfish.
God, his kisses make my mind go all mushy.
He doesn’t say anything, but comes inside with me and sits on my bed while I take my eye make-up off and brush my teeth. I remove my clothes and throw on my black PJ pants and singlet top, assuming it’s something safe, not too sexy, just comfortable. He’s shirtless upon my return, and it’s all I can do not to stare. I’ve never seen his bare body before.
Ever.
His tanned skin is smooth and hairless. Aside from a few scars, which in my opinion only add to his beauty, his body is sheer perfection.
“Wow,” I mouth, eyes wide as saucers. “Those are abs. In real life. Yeah, wow.”
Okay, I knew his body was hard as a rock, but I didn’t expect… this. I didn’t realize he’s so muscular. He shakes his head at me, like he’s finding my whole reaction amusing, then pats the bed beside him.
I sit down next to him.
We look at each other.
He reaches his hand out and cups my face. “You are so perfect, just like this.”
“I’m not perfect, Sylar,” I whisper. “No one is.”
I look down at his stomach and let my fingers trace his abs. “Okay, some people are.”
“I’m not a good sleeper,” he admits.
“That’s fine because I sleep like a log,” I say, shrugging. “Unless you need me. Then please, wake me.”
“You’re a deep sleeper?”
I nod. “Yeah, I can pretty much sleep through anything.”
“I won’t disturb you?” he asks, looking unsure.
I gently tug on his beard. “You won’t, and if you do, I don’t mind.”
“I mind,” he says, sighing. “Sometimes I just can’t sleep, so I’ll get up and wander around the house, or work out.”
“So that explains the abs.”
“Brielle, concentrate,” he chastises, making me giggle a little.
“You can wander around my house, you can work out, you can do anything you like. Make yourself at home. If you really hate it, then I won’t ask you to sleep over again, okay?”
He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. “I’m sorry I’m so difficult.”
“That’s meant to be my line,” I joke, running my hand over his shoulder.
“You can’t fix me.”
