Warm Nights and Cold Days

I sighed in frustration and turned for the umpteenth time in the bed, throwing the thick duvet off my body as I did so. It was far too warm for a thick duvet and completely the wrong time of year for it also, but he wanted it, said he needed it and so he got it, oblivious to what I wanted. If I wanted to suffer from heatstroke every night I would ask.

It wouldn't bother me so much if he was here to appreciate it, but of course he wasn't. I couldn't even remember the last time that he went to bed the same time as I did. He was hardly even in the house at the same time as I was anymore.

I sighed again and rolled onto my back, rubbing my face with my hands and opening my eyes to stare up at the ceiling. I could never sleep until I knew he was home, just a habit that I had gotten myself into. I sat up and swung my feet over the side of the bed. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and ran a hand through my thick, curly, brown hair before standing. I got as far as the bedroom door before I heard the front door open from downstairs. I retraced my steps and quickly got back into bed and pulled the covers over myself as I heard his footsteps up the stairs.

I lay still with my eyes closed as he came into the room, tiptoeing in, thinking I was asleep and so he didn't disturb me. I heard the clink of his belt buckle as he unbuckled it and let his trousers drop to the floor, the metal making an even louder noise as it hit the laminate flooring. I then heard the fabric of his t-shirt being pulled over his skin as he lifted it up and over his head and the soft pat as it too hit the floor to join the jeans. He thought he was being quiet, but in reality he was making a lot of noise to my sensitive ears.

I felt the bed shift and the springs groaned slightly as he got in and under the covers. He shifted near to me and in a heartbeat one of his hands was snaking around my waist, under the fabric of the t-shirt of his I was wearing. His fingertips were cold and made me jump, giving away that I was in fact awake. I opened my eyes again and stared at the dresser in front of me, there was no use pretending any longer.

"You awake?" he asked in that gorgeous natural accent of his that had attracted me to him in the first place.

"Yeah," I said softly, my voice husky from the lack of use.

"What's wrong? Why couldn't you get to sleep?" he asked. Even after a year of him coming home late every night, after I went to bed, he still didn't get that it was because he wasn't there.

"Oh, you know, the usual," I said simply. The usual had never actually been clarified. It had just became a habit to say that it was 'the usual' and he had never questioned it, probably thinking he had missed something I had said before and didn't want to get into trouble for it.

"Mm'kay" he mumbled, as his warm lips pressed to the back of my neck, burning like fire on my already hot skin. His fingertips were still cold as they pressed against my stomach, cooling the skin but warming up at the same time. Soon it would be far too uncomfortable. I was already suffering from the heat of the duvet being back around us, his body heat adding even more.

He moved his hand down and to my bare thigh and rested it there, his breath hot on the back of my neck his hand now warm and burning my skin like hot coals. I couldn't wait for him to go to sleep so that I could throw the covers off, and maybe even him too.

I scrunched my eyes shut tightly as the hot hand on my skin continued to drive me crazy. At this rate, I would never get to sleep. I could already feel myself becoming more and more awake as I started to get my second wind.

I waited until I could hear his breathing get heavier. After what felt like forever it finally did, hitting off the back of my neck with force, burning. I removed his hand and leant back so that he lay on his back, far enough away from me. I then threw the covers off and sighed in content. I already felt a hundred times more comfortable, the humidity in the room far too hot as it was without a big duvet over me as well.

I turned onto my stomach and hugged my pillow, perfectly comfortable. I was now ready to sleep. It wasn't long before I could feel myself drifting off into a light slumber.

-

"Lauren?" I heard his voice whisper next to my ear as I felt his long fingers brush hair out of my face. I opened my eyes and squinted in the sunlight as I looked at him, just a shadow against the light coming in through the window to my ill-adjusted eyes. "Babe, I got to go to the studio early. I know we were going to spend the morning together but turns out I'm not going to have it off after all." He whispered, petting my hair behind my ears.

I groaned, closing my eyes again, truly disappointed at not having any time with him today, but too tired to physically protest, or even form any words. We hadn't spent the day together for weeks because he'd been working on his new show. It had completely eaten up our time together.

"Tomorrow. I promise." He said, standing from his crouching position and kissing the top of my head. He pulled the covers around me, tucking me in. "I'll see you tonight when I get home, I'll try and be home for dinner." He said, kissing my hair again.

"Mhmm," I mumbled, knowing he wouldn't be home in time.

"I love you," he said as he was already leaving the room. Only minutes later, I heard the door slam shut and I sighed as I started to heat up.

It took me a couple of seconds to realise what was making me so warm and what he had done. I groaned loudly and threw the covers off of me, turning onto my back and scowling at the ceiling. Six o'clock in the fucking morning and I was awake and alone. Again.

I didn't believe in love, it was simply an excuse to have a warm bed and I knew that for a fact.