Chapter 105: Sleeping Till late

The moment Reid’s head hit my shoulder, a long, ragged breath escaped him, his massive frame going heavy and loose against me.

The biting edge of his frozen pine scent dulled, turning into something thick, warm, and deeply sedated. He was exhausted—from the game, the pin on his ankle, and the sheer force of his own erratic emotions.

​I stayed completely still, staring at the television screen as the hockey highlights blurred into standard daytime television, then into afternoon infomercials.

I didn’t move an inch, even when my arm went numb beneath his weight. Eventually, my own eyelids grew heavy, the suffocating warmth of his embrace pulling me down into a dark, dreamless sleep.

​When I finally woke up, the penthouse was completely dark.

​The dim light from the morning was gone, replaced by the deep, cool shadows of Sunday evening. The television screen was casting a blue glow across the living room, the volume lowered to a faint murmur.

​Reid was still wrapped around me, but he had shifted. His face was pressed directly into the crook of my neck, his hot breath puffing against the raw, sensitive skin of the mark he’d left there.

One of his hands was tangled in the hem of my shirt, gripping the fabric tightly even in his sleep, as if checking to make sure I hadn’t slipped away in the dark.

​My body was stiff, aching from the awkward position, but the moment I tried to gently pry his fingers off my shirt, his grip instantly tightened. A low, warning rumble vibrated in his chest—a subconscious, alpha instinct reacting to the threat of separation.

​"Reid," I whispered, my voice hoarse from sleep. "Let go. It’s night."

​He stirred, his long eyelashes fluttering against my skin before his grey eyes blinked open, dark and completely unfocused in the blue light of the TV.

He still didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled me a fraction closer, his nose dragging up my jawline until his lips brushed against the corner of my mouth.

​"Stay," he rasped, his voice thick with sleep, completely devoid of the usual rookie arrogance.

​Looking up at him in the shadows of Sunday night, the hollow ache in my chest turned into a sharp, agonizing twist.

The heavy, suffocating warmth of an Alpha’s pheromones after sex is a dangerous thing—especially when your body is already starved for them.

Between the sheer physical exhaustion of the past forty-eight hours, the dense, sedated cloud of frozen pine enveloping the couch, and the mental burnout of calculating my own escape, my body simply shut down. We didn’t just nap; we went under like rocks slipping beneath the surface of a dark lake.

"Reid, it really is late. We can’t sleep any longer."

​He let out a low, disgruntled groan, stubborn for a second longer before he finally rolled over, rubbing a hand across his face. "Fuck... what time is it?"

​"Super late," I muttered, unsticking myself from the leather couch. My head was swimming, that heavy, groggy post-sleep haze making my limbs feel like lead. "I’ll start making dinner. If I don’t eat something, I’m going to pass out again."

"Sure, cap," He muttered but he dropped his head on the couch again.

Seriously, was he going to sleep again?

...

​Dinner was quiet, almost surreal. Honestly, we were both too dazed from the aggressive twelve-hour sleep cycle to talk much. I moved around the kitchen in a total fog, throwing together whatever was fast and filling, while Reid sat at the island, watching me with heavy, sleep-lidded eyes.

Every time our hands brushed over a shared plate, a strange, electric tension zipped through the air and I bit the inside of my mouth, being reminded of how I was jumping into the cycle of Reid-catastrophe on my own.

​By the time the plates were cleared, the reality of our situation hit us. We had slept away the entire day. Trying to go to bed now would be an absolute joke; we were both wide awake, our minds wired despite the lingering physical lethargy.

​I was leaning against the counter, tracing the rim of a glass of water, when Reid suddenly smirked, a dangerous, playful glint returning to his grey eyes. The fragile, broken kid from this morning was locked away; the cocky brat was back.

​"Can’t sleep," Reid noted, limping over to a cabinet near the entertainment center. He dragged out a couple of boxes, dropping them onto the coffee table with a loud clatter. A deck of cards and a classic block-stacking game. "And I’m bored."

​I raised an eyebrow, still feeling a bit detached. "So go watch another match."

​"Nah. Let’s play a game, Cap." He leaned against the back of the sectional, his eyes locking onto mine with a sudden, predatory sharp focus that made my stomach do a slow flip. "But standard rules are boring. We need stakes."

​"I’m not gambling money with a rookie who has triple my salary in his account, McCoy."

​"Who said anything about money?" Reid chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that vibrated right through the dim room. He reached up, lazily tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. "Simple rules. Card games, Jenga, whatever. You lose a round, or you knock the tower over... you take off a piece of clothing."

​My heart did a sudden, violent stutter against my ribs.

​I stared at him, my mind screaming at me to say no, to walk away, to lock myself in the guest room. But my groggy compromised brain was lagging. Looking at the sharp line of his jaw, the lazy confidence radiating from his posture, and the sheer challenge in his eyes, a dangerous, reckless spark flared up in my chest.

​What does it matter? a toxic voice whispered in the back of my mind. You’re leaving tomorrow morning anyway. If you go down, you have entirely yourself to blame.

​"Strip poker, McCoy? Really?" I let out a dry, breathy laugh, finally walking over to the couch and sitting down opposite him, the coffee table separating us.

I picked up the deck of cards, slowly shuffling them with hands that were finally steady. "Alright, alright. But you’re going to lose your shirt before we even get to the board games."

​Reid’s smirk widened into something thoroughly wicked, his scent flaring with a sudden, heated burst of anticipation. "We’ll see about that, Cap. Deal the cards."