He took a deep breath, his heart beating fast, as she was so close to him. She was so warm, the fire that would be lit in the hearth if it wasn't a sunny day. His arm had to reach around her to turn the page, continuing where he left off. He was thankful his voice wasn't shaking from being close enough to smell her slight citrus perfume, feeling her heated breath against his thin shirt.
He focused less on the woman nuzzling close to him and more on the world of the book. Each sentence was familiar, but as he read it out loud, he got into character. He noticed more details about the dashing hero and his tenacious heroine. His voice took on their personalities as he detailed the first time the rogue met his not-so-distressed damsel. Since it opened up with the rescue mission, he even had to guess on how futuristic weapons would sound. It was almost as if he was reading this chapter for the first time again. He had to force himself to stop when it ended. "See? A lot of action already! How did you-"
A loud roar of a snore was his response. It wasn't a criticism or an insult. He was sure Ira would've enjoyed it.
That was a snore of someone fast asleep, probably been asleep at the word "Continue."
He furrowed his brow again, a storm of annoyance crossing those eyes, a grunt escaping his lips as they curled into a pout. His hand lifted from the book to rub his forehead, before moving to stroke his hair vigorously to shake off that irritation. He looked down at Ira, his annoyance fading as he saw those dark circles under her long lashes. He studied her face, taking in those thick lips, strong jaw, and pronounced cheekbones. Even with her missing arm, nothing about her was delicate or dainty. Despite her short, compact stature, she felt heavy against him, a powerful muscle pressing against his side.
She looked so vulnerable against him. Her eyes flinched, her brow furrowing slightly as if she was dreaming about something unpleasant.
He bit his lip, unsure whether to wake her up and fighting the urge to push things too fast. He only got the nerve to speak to her yesterday. Here he was, looking at her supple lips, fighting the urge to steal a kiss, while worrying about what nightmare plagued her. What Hell he had a tiny glimpse of yesterday would she disappear to? He shook his head, remembering her glare from earlier as she told him he needed permission. "Yeah, you'll give me shit for that."
His right hand moved up from the couch, first stroking her shoulder, the black fabric moving against his fingers. His fingers travel towards the back of her head, his fingers stroking it, and running his fingers through those thick curls. At that touch, her brow softened, and she looked peaceful, whatever unpleasant dream fading away. He smiled, sighing softly, feeling her breath against him. "Sleep well, Ira." He opened his book to where he had left off earlier, letting her catch the sleep that had escaped her.