What do you know? Annie was right.
I have to blink a few times to make sure I'm awake when I identify the warm piece of man-meat wrapped around me. He's here. Despite everything conspiring to keep us apart, we're finally together. With that knowledge, I smile so wide, my cheeks hurt.
We're facing each other with his arm beneath my head, legs tangled together. I can't describe how wonderful it feels to finally wake up next to the man I love. As for Liam, he still looks completely out of it. His eyes are moving beneath his eyelids, and his breath comes in short, shallow gusts.
I push myself up onto my elbow to get a better look at him. Even with his new Grizzly Adams makeover he's the most handsome man I've ever seen, but I also notice the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his skin. After his insane shooting schedule and having to fight through the storm, I can only imagine how exhausted he is.
I look down at his body and see a few bruises and some nasty scratches. I know by now they're a result of him insisting on doing most of his own stunts, and I'm as unhappy about that as his insurance company. But the one thing I know about Liam is that when he makes up his mind, there's little anyone can to do change it. His determination is just one of the many things I love about him.
"Noooo. No peas." He frowns and pouts. "Noooo, Ma, donwanem." I smile as he mumbles something unintelligible before flopping onto his back.
How he can be completely adorable and sexy as sin at the same time is beyond me.
I use his lack of consciousness to my advantage and carefully climb out of bed to go shower and brush my teeth. It's probably stupid to want to make a good early-morning impression considering where we are in our relationship, but I don't care. I want to smell awesome for him.
When I'm feeling fresh as a daisy, I wrap myself in a robe and climb back into bed to watch him sleep. As I study him, I wonder if it's normal to be this fascinated by one man. To be fair, he's no ordinary man. Even unconscious, Liam Quinn is strangely compelling to watch.
After a while, he starts mumbling again before throwing off the covers to reveal he's naked except for his navy boxer briefs.
Well, hellooooo, Mr. Quinn.
The dark fabric hugs every aroused inch of him, and when he starts to make noises that sound suspiciously porny, my resolve to let him sleep dissolves.
"As if any other woman would have lasted this long," I whisper to myself. "I mean, for the love of God, look at him."
I lean over and lift the waistband of his underwear. If I can just get them down without waking him, I can surprise him with a little good morning oral.
I hold my breath as I peel the boxers far enough down his hips to fully reveal his erection. Then I take a few moments to marvel at the glory of my future husband.
I'm about to run a finger down his length when a hand snaps out and grabs my wrist.
"And what the hell do you think you're doing, Miss Holt?"
I look over to find him assessing me with bleary eyes."Ahhhh, nothing. Just saying good morning."
"To my cock?"
"Well, he was awake, and you weren't. It would have been rude to ignore him."
"Of course he was awake. I was dreaming about you." He tucks himself back into his underwear. "Better stay back. You have no idea how close he was to exploding in your face. You could have been killed."
I raise an eyebrow. "Killed?"
"Well, okay, maybe not killed, but if he'd gone off in your eye, it would have stung like hell. Believe me, I know."
"Oh, really?" I suppress a smile. "You've friendly fired yourself in the face?"
He turns onto his side and props his head on his hand. "Of course. Most men have. It's not like that stuff always comes out at the same velocity. Sometimes it's like opening a warm champagne, and sometimes it's like that science experiment where you drop Mentos into a bottle of Pepsi, and the whole thing explodes in a huge geyser of stickiness."
I laugh and stroke his face. "You should trademark that name."
"Huge Geyser of Stickiness?"
"Yeah, just in case you ever decide to make a porno."
"Is that so?" In a flash, he flips me onto my back and presses both my hands into the mattress. "And would you star in this porno with me?" He tries to act serious, but I can see his mouth quirk.
"Of course. My porn name is Horatio Sixty-Second."
He closes his eyes and moans, "Holy shit, baby. That's so fucking hot."
I manage to get my hands free long enough to push him off. He laughs as he rolls onto his side.
"Listen," I say, and slap his chest, "I'll have you know that name’s scientifically formulated. It’s my first pet plus the street where I grew up. When I was five, I had a regal goldfish called Horatio Swimsalot the Third, and I grew up on 62nd street, so there. The name is legit."
He puts his hands behind his head. "Well, by that logic, my porn name is Wigglebottom Washington."