Formidable Devotion

XVI

The previous was re-written and reposted because of missing parts that are very important. Please read that before this one.

JULIET HARRISON'S POV

Nathaniel did not bother to lend me any clothing that I could sleep on, for instance, his tshirt, or sweatpants.....even when I asked.

I'll be sleeping on my panties tonight. I can't afford to ruin my Versace dress by laying with it.

I stare at Nathaniel's bedroom while sited on his  bed. It feels like the walls are closing in because of how small the room is. The bed has taken up most of the space and there isn't room for anything else but a midsized wardrobe and a tiny side table.

There is nothing in this enclosed space that can give me an idea of who Nathaniel wilbur even is..... Absolutely nothing.

I wonder whether he has a girlfriend or may be a wife....okay, may be not a wife, clearly he lives alone. Unless he is out of state and his family is in Nashville or Alabama or something. Perhaps he prefers being alone and casually brings home a woman on the weekends just to feel something other than whatever it is that he usually feels.

It doesn't make sense why a man as physically attractive as Nathaniel and age suitably appreciate  would be completely free of any kind of relationship. Unless he's manners are worse than a stray dogs, which I doubt. He might be rude, and fucking harsher than he needs to be, but he doesn't appeal to me as a man without scruples.

I take off my dress and lay it on the bed, it's cold and I quickly tuck myself in, covering my body with his red Velvet duvet and burying my face into his pillow. His sheets smell like lavender and that's a slight change from his usual neutral smell. I like it, lavender has always been appealing to me. The sound of his voice comes back to me, it's deepness, the rustiness on the edge...

And then I think back to the scars on his body. My heart pounds a bit faster, what could've happened to him? Was he involved with dangerous people? The military? What? How did he get such deep scars? Who hurt him ? And why?

I bet he's already fast asleep on his couch, I should get some rest as well, tomorrow will be a long day.

Or I could take a small pick at his sleeping form.

I crawl out of bed quickly , not bothering to contemplate my thoughts, wrapping my naked body under his duvet , opening the door slightly, walking steady through the tiny hallway and entering the living room. The lights are out but the moon light penetrates the silk fabric of the curtains and shine over his face. He is using a brown blanket, covering his body half way through. The marks on his body don't look so threatening anymore, but rather fragile. Whatever demeanor of strength he's portrayed so far is now sinking in the water, his guard is down, his ranging thoughts probably soothed with goodnight sleep.

He lays there peacefully, his face calmer than the night and I'm suddenly intrigued by the glimmering of his skin. Nathaniel looked like a child, resting in the warmth of a secured shelter. Why am I even watching this grown man sleep and mistaking him for a vulnerable child? This is ridiculous!!!!!!

Before I exit the room my eyes spot a jar of pills on the table beside the couch. What medication is that? Could it be for his leg? Pain killers may be!

I make my way to the table and try hard not to wake him with my movements. I grab the mediation and read it..... Melatonin. Nathaniel uses sleeping pills to rest his body, does he use these every night? Does he have insomnia? Does his lack of sleep have a connection with the scars on his body?