The next time I awoke, it was to morning sunlight streaming in through the windows and to me on top of a real-life Hank-Weller-body pillow.
 
My sluggish brain only required a few seconds to recall why he was in my bed and how I’d bawled all over him before summarily passing out. I didn’t feel embarrassed by the memory. I felt curious, slightly numb, and an erect penis through a layer of his jeans and my pajamas, pressing against the inside of my thigh.
 
“Are you awake?” he whispered hoarsely. “Please say you’re awake.”
 
I swallowed and closed my eyes, not willing to yield my position on top of and next to him. This was a surprise. I’d never enjoyed sleeping in the same bed with anyone. I’d never co-slept with my kids. In my youth, I couldn’t sleep at camp or other situations where sharing a bed had been required. With my ex, I’d tiptoe out of the room once he was snoring and spent most of our marriage slumbering on the couch.
 
But this? Waking up with my leg curled over Hank’s groin, my arm flung over his chest, and my ear resting over his heart? I could get used to this.
 
“I’m awake,” I said haltingly. “But unless the kids are up, I’m not ready to move, if that’s okay with you.”
 
His hand moved on my bare back. I realized belatedly that he’d slipped it under my shirt at some point, tugging me closer until my entire torso pressed more fully against him.
 
“You’re still sick,” came his rumbly voice, giving me the sense the words were more for his benefit than for mine. “You will be sick for a while. I should keep my hands to myself until you are well . . . unless you ask me not to.”
 
My head was still a bit cottony, my throat a little dry, but I didn’t think I had a fever and my ears no longer ached. I felt almost normal. It’s amazing what hydration, rest, and the presence of a sexy boyfriend can do for a person.
 
“I don’t feel very sick,” I said, my mouth curving with giddy pleasure before I could prevent it. He must’ve felt the movement against his chest because he chuckled.
 
“Oh no. Don’t smile,” he groaned, sounding pained. “I can’t resist your smiles.”
 
“You find my smiles irresistible?”
 
“You know I do. Smile at me and I’m yours to command.”
 
Oh my goodness. I liked the sound of that. Warmth unfurled in my chest and I ducked my head.
 
He shifted at my silence, his hand sliding from the center of my back to my bottom, resting above the fabric of my pajamas. “Charlotte Mitchell, are you feeling shy?”
 
“A little,” I admitted. I did feel shy. I also felt many other things, all of which were too large and unwieldy to contemplate or share at present.
 
Hank kissed the top of my head. “Then, you be shy. I’ll stay right here, ready to be of service, just in case you start feeling bold.”